Interrupta Vitae
by Hagunemnon
Summary: A mysterious accident sees an 11 year-old Gohan and Harry Potter trading spaces. What events lie in store for the Firstborn of Goku and the Chosen One as they both end up in strange worlds, taken from everything they've known.
1. Trading Spaces

**Interrupta Vitae**

Chapter One: Trading Spaces

"Damn it, boy! You had best not be up to any unnaturalness!"

Son Gohan stared at the floor in a daze, only peripherally aware of the sound of heavy footsteps approaching him. The last thing he remembered was lying in his bed, missing his father. A bright flash of light...something that sounded like lightning...it was all so fuzzy, after that.

Vernon Dursley approached the prone child, his face purpled in rage. He'd been having a nice sleep when that boy had decided to start a ruckus that sounded like a stick of dynamite exploding in the sitting room of the shack he and his family had been forced into after those letters from that _freak school_ wouldn't stop coming. Ignoring the boy's obvious change in clothing, build, and hairstyle, chalking the changes up to his being an unnatural freak, the large man swung his foot at the boy's stomach. That, alas, proved to be a mistake. Instead of soft, pliant tissue, Vernon Dursley's foot met with what felt like a brick wall. Wincing in pain, a vein standing prominently in his forehead, pulsating as his foot throbbed, Vernon was caught completely unawares when a loud, resounding bang came from the front door.

Gohan, ignoring the man who'd apparently broken several toes against his side, looked up at the rickety-looking door, his mind still reeling. His heart hammered in his head as several more loud bangs sent dust and splinters flying until, with a loud crash, the door had been forced off its hinges. Staring blankly at the now vacant door frame, Gohan made out the silhouette of an enormous man. At first, he thought it might have been Yajirobe, for whatever reason, but this man was at least three times the monk's height, and didn't appear to be carrying a katana.

"Harry?" the giant of a man asked, looking at Gohan. "My goodness! Yeh...yeh're built like an ox!"

"Huh-?" was all Gohan could get out before the giant man scooped him up in a large hug.

"Its so good to see ye, though!" he cried. "Seems Dursley here couldn't keep yeh from growin like..."

At that point, the giant man slowly put Gohan down, looking at his eyes and forehead, making the young man extremely uncomfortable in the process.

"Wait a second..." he said, peering closer at Gohan's face. "Where's yer scar? An' what happened to yer eyes?" Before Gohan could answer, the giant man turned toward Vernon, who was standing awkwardly on his sore foot. "Dursley, what 'ave you done ter Harry?" The words came out like icy boulders, and Gohan knew that this man meant business.

"W-w-what," Vernon began, trying his best to seem imposing to a man who was head and shoulders taller than he was. "That isn't Harry! Where did that _damn boy_ get off to?!"

"Where," the giant took a large step toward Vernon, glowering angrily at the man. "Is Harry?"

"I don't know!" Vernon cried. "That boy did something _unnatural_ , and now he's gone! Good riddance, I say!"

"If I find out you did something to hurt Harry," the giant said, pinning Vernon against the wall with a single, meaty hand. "Yeh had better pray Dumbledore gets to ye afore I do."

With that, the giant let Vernon down and turned toward Gohan, his features changed from rage to a more neutral look, causing Gohan to relax his muscles. Whatever this guy was, he didn't seem to mean him any harm...at least, not yet. Remembering Mr. Piccolo's lessons, he kept his guard up, ready to defend himself if things got hairy.

"Mah name's Hagrid," the giant said kindly. "Who might ye be?"

"Son..." Gohan began, knocked a bit off balance by the man's gentle tone. "Son Gohan, sir."

"Son Gohan," Hagrid said in a somewhat sombre tone. "I need to take yeh to Albus Dumbledore. Summat fishy is goin on here, and I think yeh might be caught up in it. Dumbledore's the smartest wizard around. Don' worry," Hagrid continued, placing a hand on Gohan's shoulder. "We're not gonna hurt yeh. I don' think yer responsible for this. Will ye come with me?"

"I," Gohan began, weighing his options. "I guess so."

"Thank ye," Hagrid said, patting Gohan on the head. "There's a good lad. Dursley, if I find out yeh had summat to do with this..."

Gohan saw Hagrid bare his teeth just a little at the frightened man. He didn't like the implications of what the giant man was saying, but Gohan felt he could handle him if he decided to hurt or kill this Dursley guy. Walking outside the small shack, Gohan winced and rubbed his eyes as the salt air stung them.

"Son Gohan," Hagrid said, walking toward a large motorbike. "I hope yeh don't mind if'n we fly ter Hogwarts."

"Fly?" Gohan asked, a tad confused. "You can fly?"

"Me?" Hagrid replied, laughing a little. "Oh no, but this ol' girl here can. A lot more comfy than a broom, if'n ya ask me."

"Would you mind if I flew beside you?" Gohan asked, a tad rattled. "I just...I need to stretch out a bit."

"Yeh can fly?" Hagrid asked, astonished. "By all means, m'boy! Just don' wander off, okay? Can't have ye getting lost, now can we?"

Gohan shook his head. It was a flimsy excuse, but Gohan just wasn't comfortable being _that_ close to a strange man he'd just met, his mother would kill him if she found out. As Hagrid took off, Gohan let his ki lift him up, just how he'd learned, and was soon flying beside Hagrid in his bike. The man occasionally stole awed expressions at Gohan, which occasionally led to him nearly crashing into the 11 year-old boy as they flew high in the clouds to, in Hagrid's words, "keep from bein' seen by muggles." Gohan had no idea what a "muggle" was, but he didn't want to run the risk of getting on the giant's bad side, especially if he was, as he said, friend to a powerful wizard. Ki could only do so much when pitted against magic, something Mr. Piccolo had drilled into him during the time they spent training for Vegeta and Nappa's assault on Earth.

A while later, Hagrid dipped his motorbike lower, heading beneath the clouds, and Gohan followed suit. A sudden, strange tingling sensation washed over Gohan's body, as if he'd been hit by a small jolt of electricity and, a moment later, a large, imposing castle materialized in front of them. Hagrid landed his flying motorcycle next to a large hut on the outskirts of the castle, and Gohan was right behind him.

"Alrigh', Son Gohan," Hagrid said, tapping his vehicle with his umbrella, which caused it to shimmer for a second. "Let's go an' meet Dumbledore."

"Mr. Hagrid," Gohan said as they walked up the cobblestone path to a side entrance to the castle. "You can call me Gohan, if you wish."

"Preferred to be called by yer last name, eh?" Hagrid asked.

"Last name?" Gohan asked, quirking his head to the side as they walked down a torch-lit, stone corridor before he recalled that some places put given names before family names. "Oh! Gohan's my given name."

"Aah," Hagrid said, nodding. "So, yer name's done Asian style, eh?"

Gohan merely raised a confused eyebrow at this question. He'd never heard of "Asia" before...he'd openly admit to not being that keen on geography, but Gohan was fairly certain that there was nowhere on Earth called Asia. Then again, the areas the flew over, what little he could see through the clouds, didn't look like any city he'd seen before. The young man had even more questions when Hagrid started talking to a statue.

"Tell Professor Dumbledore that I need to see him," Hagrid said directly. "Quick-like, s'important."

Gohan was about to ask what was going on when the gargoyle statue moved out of the way, revealing a spiral staircase leading up. Questions floating in his mind, Gohan followed Hagrid up to a large set of ornate, wooden doors. Before the large man had even had a chance to knock, a voice came from within the room, telling them to come in.

"What is it, Hagrid?" the older gentleman asked as they entered the room, eyeing Gohan with a mixture of curiosity and worry.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir," Hagrid said, bowing his head a little, motioning toward Gohan. "This here's Gohan. I wen' to where Harry was, like yeh said, an' instead of finding him, I foun' this one. Dursley said he didn' know what'd happened, so I figured I'd bring Gohan here to ya and see what ya make of it all."

"Hmm," Dumbledore said, peering through his moon-shaped spectacles at the young half-Saiyan. "Tell me, Gohan, what kind of magic do you possess?"

"Magic?" Gohan asked, confused. "I...I've never used any magic, that I know of."

"Yet, I can feel it in you," Dumbledore said, getting up from his seat. "Do not worry," he said, seeing Gohan's tension and defensive posture. "I'm not going to hurt you, but I must know what happened. I'm going to use a few charms to see if I can't unravel this latest mystery, is that okay?"

Gohan, not sensing any malice in the older man, nodded. Dumbledore pulled a long piece of strange-looking wood from his sleeve, a wand no doubt, and muttered a few strange words as Gohan felt an odd power washing over him. Dumbledore's face took on a grave look as the last of the charms faded.

"I see," he said, stroking his long, white beard. "It would seem that young Gohan here was the victim of a most peculiar accident. If I had to venture a guess, I'd guess that he and young Harry have swapped places."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, sir," Gohan said, unable to restrain his curiosity, and worry, any longer. "But...where, exactly, _am I_?"

"You're in Hogwarts, my boy," Dumbledore said genially. "A school dedicated to the study of magic and the tutelage of young witches and wizards."

"What I meant to say was," Gohan began, nervous. "What _planet_?"

"Earth, dear boy."

"Earth?" Gohan choked out. "But...that's not right. This place isn't anything like Earth. The cities are all wrong, and Hagrid mentioned a place called 'Asia,' which as far as I know, doesn't exist."

"I believe I understand," Dumbledore said, his eyes widening with realization. "You came here from a _different_ Earth, a parallel. This is...unfortunate."

"If what you're saying is true," Gohan began. "Then this Harry person is probably in my bed on my world. Mr. Dumbledore, sir... _how do I get back home_?"

"I'm sorry, Gohan," Dumbledore said sadly, gripping the boy's shoulder. "I do not know. This is beyond mere apparition, beyond what we know of the magic of teleportation."

"Mom," Gohan began, tearing up. "You mean I'm stuck here? I...I won't see my family again?"

"I don't know, my boy," Dumbledore responded in a comforting tone. "However, whatever accident caused you to be swapped with young Harry may be able to be repeated. Rest assured, I will do everything in my power to see that you are safely returned to your family."

"Thank you, sir," Gohan said weakly. "What...what do I need to do?"

"You seem to have the gift of magic," Dumbledore replied. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have been able to get past the wards. One of the charms I cast informed me that you're the right age. It is up to you, Gohan, but Hogwarts has a place for you, here, until we can find a way to send you home."

"Gift of magic?" Gohan repeated back, astounded. "I...I guess that would be good. Maybe while I'm here, I can find something useful."

"Well, then, my boy," Dumbledore said, drawing himself up, offering Gohan a hand, which the young man gladly shook. "Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

* * *

"Ugh," Harry said, rubbing his head, which ached abominably. "What happened?"

"Gohan?" a female voice asked before opening the door.

"Wha-?" was all Harry managed to get out before the panicked woman stood before him, glowering angrily.

"Where's my Gohan?" she yelled frantically. "What did you do to him?!"

"What?" Harry asked, confused and frightened.

"Who are you?" the woman demanded. "And what have you done with Gohan?"

"Harry Potter!" he replied quickly, cowering. "I don't know who Gohan is, ma'am, honest!"

"Wh-" the woman began, before she noticed the frightened look on the boy's face.

It took Chi Chi all her self-control not to vomit when she realized what must be going on in that boy's head. She'd watched enough on the news and read enough to know an abused child when she saw one...it didn't help that she could make out faint bruises and scars on the young man's hands. He was so emaciated, so thin that any anger Chi Chi felt evaporated instantly in a wave of pity. Whoever his Harry Potter boy was, he was just a frightened, abused kid.

"I'm sorry," Chi Chi said, offering a hand slowly, a proverbial olive branch to a young man she'd inadvertently terrorized. "My name's Chi Chi, and Gohan is my son. I heard what sounded like a bomb going off in his room..."

Harry, his heart still hammering wildly in his chest, took the woman's trembling hand.

"You-" Chi Chi began gently before the window on the far side of the room opened, revealing a green-skinned man wearing a long, white cape and a turban, his face set in a scowl. Harry backed away from the man...he looked like Vernon did when he was about to start beating him for cooking his bacon a little too long.

"Where is Gohan?" the man asked. "And who's this kid?"

"His name is Harry Potter," Chi Chi said, narrowing her eyes at the green man. "And as for Gohan, I...I really don't know."

"I felt Gohan's ki signature disappear," the green man said, eyeing Harry suspiciously. "I was worried someone had gotten him. Did _you_ do anything with him?"

"I swear, I didn't!" Harry plead, his eyes wide with fear.

Piccolo's eyes went wide, and his stomach lurched. He could sense that this boy was telling the truth, and that he was unbelievably frightened of him, well beyond what most Earthlings felt when they saw him for the first time. It was then that Piccolo felt something strange.

"Wait," he said, climbing into the room, inspecting the area above the bed. "Something feels weird here. Its like Gohan's ki, but its all twisted and... _wrong_." Piccolo turned to see the thin boy looking at him, his pupils wide with panic. "I'm sorry," he said carefully. "I didn't mean to frighten you. Gohan's...a friend. I can't feel him anywhere on the planet, anymore, and I'm worried."

Harry visibly relaxed, but his nerves were still badly frayed. He jumped when he felt a soft hand on his shoulder. For the second time in as many minutes, Chi Chi felt physically ill; the boy she was trying to comfort had flinched at her touch, afraid that she was going to hit him.

"Harry," Chi Chi said gently. "We're not going to hurt you, but-"

At that moment, Harry had the strangest sensation, a tingling _inside_ his head.

"Hello?" an unfamiliar voice said, though Harry couldn't tell from _where_. "Chi Chi? Piccolo? Is everybody alright up there?"

"Goku?" Chi Chi said, a tear forming in her eye. "Is that you?"

"Yeah," Goku replied in their heads. "King Kai said he felt something weird happening on Earth near my house, something about the fabric of reality warping..."

"Goku," Piccolo began. "Gohan has disappeared. I can't feel him anywhere on the planet, and I didn't feel him leave or die, either. Its like he just...vanished."

"Oh no," Goku said, alarmed. "That's not good!"

"There's a boy here," Chi Chi interjected. "He says his name's Harry Potter. I heard what sounded like a bomb going off in Gohan's room and, next thing I know, he's sitting in Gohan's bed."

"Is that the other person I'm sensing with you guys?" Goku asked.

"It is," Piccolo replied simply. "He doesn't seem to know anything about what happened."

"Harry?" Goku asked in the boy's mind. "Could you tell me what you remember from before you wound up here?"

"Uhm," Harry began, unsure how to respond to someone speaking in his head. "I was in a shack with my aunt and uncle and my cousin, Dudley. They were asleep, and I remember a really bright flash of light, but it gets all fuzzy between that and when I arrived here, I'm sorry."

"That's okay," Goku said gently. "Maybe Shenron can help! Get you back to your family, and get Gohan back, too."

"Please," Harry began, unable to stop himself. "Don't send me back!"

"Why not?" Chi Chi asked.

"Because..." Harry started, shifting nervously. "Because...they make me miserable. They force me to live in a cupboard under the stairs. I don't have any of my own clothes, only Dudley's hand-me-downs. I'm forced to do all the cooking, cleaning, and yard work and they barely feed me. If I mess anything up, they beat me. Please," Harry added, plaintively. "Please please please, don't send me back."

Chi Chi could no longer help it, she pulled the timid young boy into her arms, tears streaming down her face. How anyone could treat a child so badly, abuse them so thoroughly...it was difficult to comprehend, it made her chest ache. If she _ever_ got a hold of Harry's worthless excuse for a family, it'd take Goku himself to keep her from beating them to within an inch of their lives.

"Its okay, Harry," Chi Chi said with a sniffle. "We won't send you back if you don't want to go. Isn't that right, Goku?"

"That's right," Goku said firmly. "I'm sorry for bringing something that painful up, Harry, I...I didn't know. Still, perhaps Shenron might be able to get Gohan back from wherever he wound up."

"I'll ask Dende," Piccolo said in a sombre tone. "If anyone will know what Shenron can do, it'll be him."

"And I'll call Bulma," Chi Chi said, patting Harry on the head. "Then, Harry, would you like something to eat? I know its late, but if you're hungry, I don't mind."

"I don't want to put you out," Harry said quickly.

"Its not a problem," Chi Chi replied, hugging the boy once more. "What do you like?"

"I...I don't know," Harry said honestly.

"I'll make some sandwiches, then," Chi Chi said kindly. "Something quick and easy."

"That sounds nice," Harry said, nodding with a smile.

"You can stay here as long as you want," Chi Chi said, opening the door to the room. "Maybe I can show you what a real family is like."

With that, Piccolo took his leave, exiting from the window he'd used to enter the room and flying away. Harry could scarcely believe his eyes: the green man had simply flown off as if it was the most normal thing in the world. A few minutes later, Chi Chi brought Harry into the living room for a tray of sandwiches (of which Harry only ate two) and a large glass of fruit juice. All things considered, it had been the nicest meal Harry had had in his entire life. Not to mention...there were adults that seemed to like him. For the first time Harry could remember, he felt the faint stirrings of happiness.

* * *

Though he'd been awake for the past two hours, Son Gohan was still quite tired as he and Hagrid made their way into an odd bar. The large man informed him that he was taking him to a place called "Diagon Alley," one of the most painful and obvious puns he'd ever heard. Professor Dumbledore himself had granted Gohan with a stipend consisting of a few dozen small, gold coins he'd called "galleons," that he'd use to purchase school supplies for when Hogwarts was in session.

"Hagrid," Gohan began, rolling one of the strange coins between his thumb and forefinger. "Why'd Professor Dumbledore give me a bunch of gold coins to get school supplies?"

"Well," Hagrid began as they walked to the back of the bar. "Where ye come from, yeh might use different money, but the wizarding world uses a couple o' different coins. The ones ya got there are galleons. The next step down are silver sickles, and the last one below that are knuts made a' bronze. Ten knuts make a sickle, and ten sickles make a galleon."

"I see," Gohan said as they entered a back room with an out-of-place brick wall on the far end. "What are we doing here?"

"This is how yeh get into Diagon Alley o'course!" Hagrid said happily before prodding several bricks with his umbrella.

The wall shifted brick by brick until a large archway was revealed. Gohan's eyes popped open: hidden behind a nondescript bar was a bustling alley full of shops of all kinds. He followed Hagrid down the road, his head swinging about rapidly, absorbing everything he could.

"We need ter make a stop at Gringott's first," Hagrid said, pointing toward a large, marble building at the far end of the road. "Official Hogwarts business. Yeh don't mind comin with, do ye?"

"No," Gohan said, unable to keep a hint of awe from escaping into his voice. "Not at all."

"Good lad," Hagrid said, patting Gohan on the shoulder. It was a bit hard, and were he a normal boy, he'd have had a difficult time standing upright. However, the son of Son Goku was far tougher than a normal kid his age.

As they walked into the bank, Gohan spied several small, hook-nosed people scuttling about. Hagrid explained that they were goblins and that, though they were "right nasty blokes when crossed," they were an alright lot. Gohan merely nodded in assent; from where he was standing, they seemed quite brusque.

"Name?" the teller asked Hagrid as he stepped up to the counter.

"Rubeus Hagrid," he replied, handing over a small, golden key. "Here on official Hogwarts business, need ter get you-know-what from vault you-know-which."

"Aah," the goblin replied, peering at the key. "Is your charge coming with you?"

"Aye," Hagrid said, nodding. "Gohan here's gonna be goin ter Hogwarts!"

"This way, then," the goblin said brusquely.

Gohan had been on many amusement park rides before, including rollercoasters. However, none of them prepared him for the ride in what looked to be an old mining cart through a vast cave system with numerous, glittering, gold-adorned vault doors. Upon reaching their destination, the goblin handed Hagrid the key and the large man stuck it into a keyhole in the left side of the large, circular door. A few moments later, Hagrid appeared from the vault, patting a parcel in his coat. Their business concluded, Gohan was taken on another exciting ride back up to the main lobby.

"Now then," Hagrid said as they walked back out into Diagon Alley proper. "Let's see...I think our firs' stop is gon' be Ollivander's, since yeh need a wand if you want ter do any magic."

"Okay," Gohan replied, quirking an eyebrow. Mr. Piccolo didn't need a wand to do the magic he did, nor did Dende when he made the Dragon Balls. _Maybe their magic just works differently_ , Gohan thought as they walked up to a rather plain-looking shop with a large sign that read "Ollivander's, Makers of Fine Wants since 382 B.C."

"Hello, Hagrid," the gentleman behind the counter said. "Got a Hogwarts student, have we?"

"That we do, Ollivander," Hagrid said jovially. "Gohan here's gon' ter be starting his firs' year next week, so we need ter get him a wand."

"Very well, then," Ollivander replied, moving toward Gohan. Something about the man's gaze made Gohan distinctly uncomfortable. Even less comfortable than that was the animated tape measure the man had unrolled, which was now taking several measurements of his body. "Let's see, here," Ollivander said to himself, heading back to the shelves of small, thin boxes. "How about...holly, 11 inches, nice and supple, phoenix feather core."

"What do I do with it?" Gohan asked the wandmaker, gingerly taking the wand from his hand.

"Just give it a wave, my boy! We'll see if you're a good match easily enough."

Gohan did so, and a single pop came from the wand. Judging by Ollivander's expression, a disappointed frown, he had a feeling that wasn't what he was looking for. Handing the wand back, Ollivander looked the boy over again, paying attention to his forearms, which were well-toned from his training. A spark seemed to alight in the old man's eyes.

"Aah!" he said, walking over to his shelves, peering at his wands before gently slipping another, slightly longer box out. "Blackthorn, 11 and a half inches, dragon heartstring. Strong and flexible."

Gohan took the wand from the man's hand and waved it, a gout of mulicoloured sparks issuing forth.

"It would seem we have a match!" Ollivander said happily. "It makes sense, I suppose, seeing how...strong you look. Blackthorn wands almost always choose warriors, and it seems that you've got the warrior's spirit in spades, my boy."

A tear fell from Gohan's eye as he looked at the slender length of wood in his hand. Paying the man automatically, and accepting his change, Gohan continued to look at the wand...a warrior's wand. Just like dad.

"Are yeh okay, Gohan?" Hagrid asked as they left the shop. "Yeh look a bit sad about summat."

"A warrior," Gohan choked out. "He said this wand was for a warrior. It just...it makes me think about dad. He always said I'd grow up to be a powerful warrior, like him. And now I'll never..."

Hagrid pulled the boy close, too choked up to talk, himself. He knew what the boy was trying to say. Hagrid missed his father, too. There were days when he'd give anything to hear his father's voice one last time, tell him that he was proud of him like he did so often.

"I'm sure yer dad would be real proud of ya, Gohan," Hagrid said wistfully as they walked to Flourish and Blotts. "Jus' lookin at ya, I can tell yer stronger than a grass-fed ox, and yeh have a good heart, ta boot, I can tell."

Gohan simply looked up at the large man, seeing the recognition in his eyes. The rest of their shopping trip went by uneventfully; some of the potion ingredients Gohan got looked rather...strange and unsavoury, but he didn't ask any questions. It wasn't until they were at a place called Madam Malkin's, for which Hagrid opted to wait outside while Gohan got fitted for a set of school robes, that the somewhat pleasant atmosphere was interrupted.

"I can't believe they even let your kind in here," a voice drawled. "I guess father was right, standards at Hogwarts really _have_ plummeted."

"Excuse me?" Gohan asked the source, a boy with short, platinum blonde hair.

"My name, mudblood," the boy said haughtily. "Is Draco Malfoy, never forget it. I'll be the greatest wizard of our generation!"

"Okay..." Gohan said, raising an eyebrow at the boy. He honestly didn't know what to make of this Draco Malfoy, other than he could sense a good deal of arrogance coming from him.

"Hmph," Draco said, moving closer toward Gohan. "What? You think you're better than me? Worthless muggle parents probably got lost, didn't they? Bet _your_ father is out there, somewhere, staring all slack-jawed at a goblin, like a moron."

Gohan narrowed his eyes and his ki flared. "My father," he ground out. "Was the greatest warrior the world had ever seen, the strongest man alive. My mother is a good woman. They didn't lose me, I _lost them_."

"I'd be willing to be-"

"Draco!" a woman's voice called out from the counter. "Stop antagonizing that boy, this instant!"

"You don't order the scion of Malfoy, woman!" Draco barked at the shopkeeper.

"No, but I _do_ ," a man's voice said, walking behind Gohan. "I told you to keep a civil tongue, Draco. I am very disappointed in you."

"Father!" Draco choked out in embarrassment.

"Come, Draco," his father said simply. "We have places to be."

"Yes, father," Draco groused, following the man out of the store.

"Please," the shopkeeper said, walking up to Gohan, whose ki was returning to normal. "Forgive me for not stopping that boy, sooner. I'm Madam Malkin, and you're here for your Hogwarts robes, I take it?"

"I am," Gohan said, bowing slightly.

"So polite!" Madam Malkin cooed. "What's your name, young man? I need it for my records."

"Gohan, ma'am," Gohan replied.

"Do you have a last name, Gohan?"

"Oh, sorry," Gohan responded, bowing again. "My family name is Son."

"Family name?" Madam Malkin asked, looking confused for a second before a look of recognition hit her. "Aah! I see! Very well, then, Gohan Son, if you'll follow me, we'll get you fitted!"

"My!" Madam Malkin marveled as she measured the boy. "I don't think I've ever seen a young boy as well-muscled as you! I'm glad you and Draco didn't come to blows, you look like you could lift half of Hogwarts!"

Gohan merely blushed at the praise everyone seemed to heap on him for his physique. Even the normal people on his world were used to well-built fighters like Mr. Satan. Here, though, it was as if everyone expected him to look like some wiry child. As Madam Malkin made the necessary adjustments to his robe with her wand, Gohan couldn't help but enjoy how awed everyone felt at how strong he looked. During those moments, he felt like his father was there, telling him he could be anything: a great scholar, a Super Saiyan, perhaps even both. Thinking on it, he turned to Madam Malkin as she recorded his final measurements.

"Madam Malkin," he began a bit sheepishly.

"Yes, dear?"

"Can you make any other outfits?" Gohan asked hesitantly.

"I can make most anything!" Madam Malkin said with no small amount of pride. "Did you have something in mind, my boy?"

"Well," Gohan said, shuffling his feet. "I wanted a gi, like my dad used to wear."

"Aah," Madam Malkin said gently. "I believe I can help you out, there. As an apology for the...unpleasantness you dealt with in Draco, I'll do it for you pro bono."

"I can't really describe it," Gohan replied, his face more than a little red. "Other than its orange and bears the Turtle School insignia on the back..."

"I have something here," Madam Malkin said, producing a blank sheaf of parchment. "That ought to help. Just place the tip of your wand on this paper and think of the outfit you want me to make. I keep this old thing around for custom orders."

Gohan nodded and pulled out his wand, feeling slightly odd as he placed the tip on the centre of the parchment. He thought about his father, about the brilliant, orange gi that he wore almost all the time. As the details filled in, a front and back view of the gi appeared on the parchment. Gohan teared up a little, he could swear that he saw the faint outline of his father's face in the picture.

"I see," Madam Malkin said, looking at the parchment. "I believe I can make you something like that, just give me a few minutes, dear. Do you mind if I take this?"

Gohan shook his head, not trusting his words at the moment. As Madam Malkin worked, Gohan thought on what life would be like if either Dumbledore or Shenron, whom the people back home would likely use once they realized he was missing, when he got back home. He'd still never see his father again...but, at least he'd have his mother. There were times that Gohan felt that she needed him as much as he needed her. It was so unfair! The people back home needed him! His mother needed him, and he was stuck here, in this strange world!

"A metamorphmagus?" Gohan heard Madam Malkin whisper in astonishment, shaking him out of his thoughts. Without realizing it, Gohan had inadvertently transformed into a Super Saiyan.

"Sorry!" Gohan said, reverting back to normal. "What's a...metamorphmagus?"

"You don't know?" Madam Malkin asked, placing the familiar orange gi on the counter next to his robes. "They're wizards who can change their appearance at will. Just now, your hair was standing on end, and it was golden blonde!"

"I don't think I'm one of those," Gohan admitted. "Its just something...I can do, with my hair and eyes changing colour. My...my dad taught me how."

Madam Malkin merely smiled at him. She didn't want to question the polite boy's assessment...she didn't admit it as she rang him up, but she saw his skin get a bit more red and his already muscular body looked like it'd grown new muscles. She'd met another metamorphmagus several years ago for her first Hogwarts robe fitting, one Nymphadora Tonks, who seemed to despise her first name, insisting on simply being called "Dora" or "Tonks." She'd turned herself blonde during her fitting, when her hand accidentally slipped off the collar of her robes. Madam Malkin didn't know if metamorphmagi could make themselves more muscular like this boy did, but with that strange kind of magic, she supposed anything was possible.

Gohan walked out of the store more than a little embarrassed. He hadn't intended to transform except in private, when he was training. He greeted Hagrid a tad automatically and, their shopping complete, stepped through the brick archway back into the Leaky Cauldron. Flooing back to Hogwarts was as unsettling an experience the second time as it was when they came here. Gohan didn't really get why they needed to hide from these muggles, but he figured that the wizarding world had their reasons. Wizards in his world might work out in the open, but then again, his people were more used to magic, or at least more accepting of it.

"Hagrid," Gohan began as they placed his bags in his private room in the castle. "Is there any place around here where I could...train?"

"Train?" Hagrid repeated, scratching his chin. "I spose abou' anywhere would do. There's lots o' land around, so yeh can make use of it as you want. Just don' be going in the Forbidden Forest; its forbidden for a reason."

"I'll be sure to avoid it, then," Gohan replied, bowing slightly.

"Oh!" Hagrid said before making his way out of the room. "Yer gonna need to go to Platform 9 and three-quarters tomorrow for yer ride ter Hogwarts! That's what Dumbledore says, anyway."

"Why?" Gohan asked, confused. "I'm already here."

"Aye," Hagrid admitted with a shrug. "Said it was a right o' passage, whatever that means."

"I see," Gohan said, still a little confused. "How do I get there?"

"Dumbledore said he'd have Professor McGonagall take ye to the Platform in London," Hagrid explained. "After that, though, he says that she's got ter return on business."

"Alright, then," Gohan replied. "Erm, who's Professor McGonagall?"

"That would be me," Gohan heard an older woman say in a clipped voice. The woman that stood before him didn't look as old as Fortuneteller Baba or Master Roshi, but she was, by Gohan's own estimation, beyond middle age. Her face, though not unkind, looked formal and like it brooked no nonsense. In a way, she reminded him a bit of Mr. Piccolo.

"Oh!" Gohan said, bowing again. "Hello, Professor McGonagall!"

"And hello to you, too," Professor McGonagall said, nodding and smiling slightly at the boy's manners. "I hope you do not mind the little...excursion we'll be undertaking tomorrow. The headmaster insisted that it was important that you socialize with people your own age while you're here."

"I...guess that makes sense," Gohan replied somewhat lamely.

"Now," Professor McGonagall began. "What's this I hear about you wanting to train?"

"Oh, erm," Gohan started, somewhat embarrassed at being caught out. "Its just...my dad was a martial artist, and I don't want to let him down by slacking off in my training."

"A martial artist?" McGonagall repeated back, a tad shocked. "I...see. I suppose that would account for your physique. So long as you do not hurt yourself or go out of bounds, I believe that should fine."

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall," Gohan said, bowing once more.

With that, Hagrid and Professor McGonagall took their leave of the young half-Saiyan who, moments later, made his way out of the castle. Stretching his muscles, Gohan took off into the air, practicing his forms just as his father had taught him. It wasn't like working in the high gravity of the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, but at least he could maintain his current power, if he kept up with his training.

A day later, Gohan and Professor McGonagall flooed to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. The hustle and bustle made Gohan a little nervous, but McGonagall assured him that he was safe before she took her leave, informing him that she needed to help in preparing the ceremonies for the beginning of the term.

As he walked through the crowd to the glaringly crimson train, Gohan, easily schlepping his bags, felt more than a little anxious. It wasn't that he didn't like people, he just wasn't very comfortable in crowds, especially ones this large and...well, loud. Gohan got aboard the train, ten minutes shy of 11am according to the large clock on the far wall of the platform. He took an empty compartment in the rear of the train, one that was blissfully empty. Placing his bags in the overhead compartment, Gohan sat down and let out a heavy sigh, willing his tense muscles to relax. His quiet repose didn't last long, alas, as the door opened and a wiry, red-haired boy peered into the compartment.

"Hey," he said awkwardly. "Would you mind if I sat with you? The rest of the compartments on this side are full."

"I don't mind," Gohan said in a friendly tone.

"I'm Ron Weasley," he said, sitting down after hefting his bags into the compartment with great effort. "What's your name?"

"My name's Gohan," Gohan replied, feeling a little awkward.

"What house are you hoping to get sorted into, Gohan?" Ron asked. "I hope I get into Gryffindor, myself."

"House?" Gohan responded, more than a little confused. "What do you mean?"

"Come on," Ron said with a flippant gesture. "Everybody knows about Hogwarts' Four Houses. Gryffindor is where all the bravest ones get sorted. Ravenclaw's full of bookworms, Hufflepuff is where all the 'team players' go, and the less said about Slytherin, the better."

"I don't know," Gohan admitted with a shrug. "This is all...really new to me."

"Your parents must be muggles," Ron said easily. "S'ok, nothing wrong with that. My dad works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office for the Ministry, and he says muggles are basically the same as us, just without magic."

At that moment, the compartment door opened again. This time, a bushy-haired girl looked in at the two boys.

"Have either of you seen a toad?" she asked. "A boy named Neville has lost his."

"I haven't seen one," Ron replied.

"Hmm," Gohan said, stalling for time while he felt his surroundings. Sure enough, he felt the life of a toad at the end of his part of the train. "I think he's at the end of this part of the train."

"Thank you so much!" the girl said, rushing off. A moment later, Gohan spied her walking back through the hallway, toad in hand.

"How did you know that?" Ron asked in wonder.

"Huh?" Gohan replied, sensing life energy had been something he could do since his training with Mr. Piccolo. "A friend of mine taught me how to feel the energy of other living things. Your magic doesn't let you do that?"

"I've never heard of anything like that," Ron replied, shaking his head slowly. "Was he the same guy that gave you that weird getup?"

Gohan looked at his gi and replied, "Oh, no. My father used to wear a gi like this, he got it from Master Roshi when he trained with him as a kid. I had Madam Malkin make me one to...to remember him by."

"Sorry, mate," Ron said, looking more than a little uncomfortable. "I didn't mean to pry."

"Its okay," Gohan responded, waving a hand. "I know you didn't mean anything by it."

"So," Ron began, trying to move past the awkward moment. "You said your dad trained with a master? Like a master wizard?"

"No," Gohan replied, shaking his head. "Master Roshi was my father's martial arts master."

"What's 'martial arts?'" Ron asked a little lamely.

"I know what that is!" the bushy-haired girl from before said, popping in from the compartment door she forgot to shut all the way. "He trained him to fight! Like those monks in China!"

"Do you two mind if we ride with you?" another boy, appearing behind the girl, asked in a timid voice.

"Not at all," Gohan and Ron replied almost simultaneously.

"I'm Hermione Granger," the girl said as she sat down. "And this boy's Neville Longbottom."

"Pleased to meet you," Gohan said with a slight bow.

"I thought it was a little odd," Hermione began as the train lurched into action. "When we first met, erm...I completely forgot to ask your names! I'm sorry!"

"That's alright," Gohan said politely. "My name is Gohan."

"And I'm Ron," Ron added. "Ron Weasley."

"Charmed," Hermione replied, looking Ron's way.

"You look really strong, Gohan," Neville said quietly. "Did that master guy teach you, too?"

"Nah," Gohan replied, becoming more comfortable with the company in which he found himself. "Mr. Piccolo trained me when I was a kid, and my dad taught me after that."

"Wow," Neville said, his eyes wide. "They must have been good, to get you that strong."

A knock rapped on the door to the compartment. Not wishing to be rude, Gohan got up and opened the door, only to see the face of the boy he met in Diagon Alley, Draco Malfoy, flanked by two boys that, while large, didn't look that bright.

"Hmph," Malfoy said with a sneer. "Its you again, the little mudblood _orphan_ from before. I figured you'd have run like your dull-eyed, slack-jawed father would from one such as _me_."

Gohan gritted his teeth. Something about this boy angered him beyond reason, then it hit him: he acted _just like Frieza_. His pompous, sneering manner. His love of taunting people he thought were weaker than him. A cold-hearted, sadistic _bully_.

"Snarling?" Malfoy said, laughing. "Merlin, you truly _do_ act like an untrained savage."

"You know," Gohan said in a chill tone. "I've met people like you before, Draco Malfoy. They never end up amounting to much."

"Oh REALLY?" Malfoy replied angrily. "How dare you disrespect me! Crabbe, Goyle, what do you say we teach this little mudblood a lesson in respect?"

Gohan let his ki flare. As the two large boys moved towards him, he simply held up a hand and used a kiai to push them hard into the opposite wall. Malfoy, for his part, looked on in a mixture of fear and anger, drawing his wand to hex the mudblood with the freaky magic. Then, faster than he could see, Gohan was standing right in front of him, grabbing his wand arm at the wrist and wrenching it up.

"Leave," Gohan said simply. "And never bother me again."

"You..." Malfoy snarled. "Fine. Don't think this is over, you mudblood scum!"

"For your sake," Gohan said, letting the boy go. "You'd better hope that it is."

The two other boys got up, groaning, and followed their leader as he beat a hasty retreat. Gohan closed the door quietly and sat back down, trying his best to ignore the awed looks his compatriots were now giving him.

"Gohan," Neville said in a strange voice. "Did you just do wandless magic?"

Gohan sighed, the cat was well and truly out of the bag, now. "I didn't," he said simply. "I used my ki to...encourage them to leave me alone."

"Ki?" Hermione asked. "Like chi? The supposed mystical force that binds every living thing together?"

"More or less," Gohan admitted. "Mr. Piccolo taught me how to use it so I could...feel other living things and do things like the kiai I pushed Crabbe and Goyle away with. I can't...sense it in large amounts in any of you, but I can feel your life force, as well as some other strange power in you, I'm guessing that's your magic. That's how I knew where your toad was, Neville."

"You're amazing!" Ron gushed.

"Wait," Hermione said, shaking her head. "You mean to tell me that not only do you have access to a mystical force that's, going by what you said, totally different from magic, but that you can feel our magic?"

"That's the long and short of it, yeah," Gohan replied evenly. "Please, don't tell anybody about this. I don't...don't want to stick out more than I already do."

"Your secret's safe with us, mate," Ron said, slapping Gohan on the back. "My dad told me about the Malfoys. Said they only stayed out of Azkaban during the last war because they had a lot of money. According to him, you can't find many families darker than them. Going by what I saw today, I'd have to say he was spot on."

"Last war?" Gohan asked, something about it sounded...ominous, to him.

"Yeah," Ron began. "There was a big war that ended shortly before I was born. According to dad, a lot of people died because of You-Know-Who and his minions when they tried to take over the country."

"You-Know-Who?" Gohan asked, feeling a tad bad about asking so many questions.

"We don't say his name," Neville said quietly. "His followers called him the Dark Lord. He was really evil, and if it weren't for Harry Potter killing him when he was only a year old, he might have won the war."

 _Harry Potter?_ Gohan thought to himself. _The boy with whom I switched places? How did he defeat a wizard when he was only a baby?_

"Does anyone know how he did it?" Gohan asked, well and truly curious.

"Nobody knows," Hermione said in a slightly disappointed tone. "Just that, one day, he attacked the Potters and, the next, the Aurors got an anonymous tip that someone attacked the Potter residence and it was there that they found his body, baby Harry had already been taken into custody by Dumbledore."

"I wonder why he's not here," Neville said. "On the train, I mean. You'd figure people would've made a big fuss about it. From what I read, he'd be old enough now to attend Hogwarts."

"Maybe his parents decided to put him in one of the smaller magical schools," Hermione stated. "I read that there's a lot of smaller schools around Britain. They don't have the top-flight reputation of Hogwarts, but he'd probably get a lot more personal instruction."

"Makes sense, I guess," Neville offered. "I don't think I'd mind going to a school with fewer people, but my gran insisted when I got my acceptance letter."

"Oh!" Hermione said, getting up as the train slowed. "We need to get into our robes before the train stops!"

With that, everyone slipped their robes over their normal clothes. For Gohan, who was more used to wearing a gi, they felt more than a little strange. At least they weren't as...confining as the dress clothes his mother had bought him; at least in these, he could still move his arms. Gohan stretched while the train slowly decelerated, all this sitting had left him a bit stiff. One advantage Gohan noted about his robes was that the sleeves covered his arms, making his physique less obvious to a casual observer. While the compliments felt good, it was still awkward having people gawk at him. As the train stopped, Neville struggled, attempting to wrest his heavy bag from the overhead compartment.

"Hey, Neville," Gohan said kindly. "Want me to lend you a hand?"

"Sure," Neville replied, embarrassed. "This stuff's really heavy."

"I know what you mean, mate," Ron said with a light chuckle as Gohan easily plucked the bag from its resting place. "Surprised they didn't ask us to buy an anvil, too."

"Thanks, Gohan," Neville said gratefully as he was handed his bag. "Wish I were as strong as you..."

"You can be," Gohan said, not really knowing why. "I know a lot of people where I come from that are really strong. My dad's best friend, Krillin, is almost half your height, and I've seen him lift ten tonnes, before."

"Imperial or metric?" Hermione asked conversationally.

"Huh?" Gohan asked, once again confused. "Metric, I guess...we use meters, so maybe?"

"That would be metric, then," Hermione stated simply.

"How much is a metric tonne?" Neville asked.

"They don't use the metric system in the wizarding world?"

"No," Neville stated, a bit mystified. "I don't think I've even heard of it before now."

"A metric tonne and imperial tonne are roughly the same," Hermione began in a tone Gohan knew all too well, thanks to his mother: lecture mode. "Metric is a bit lighter. Ten metric tonnes would be like lifting nearly five average-sized elephants."

Neville's eyes widened in shock. "You think...I could do that?" he asked, awed.

"Maybe," Gohan replied. "I'm...not entirely sure. You have a little ki, so you could use it to augment your strength, but even normal physical training can make you really strong, if you do it right."

Neville looked a bit encouraged by that. Gohan didn't really know what the limits on magic were, if in fact there were any, but a strength-boosting spell certainly seemed possible, if Professor Dumbledore could detect that he came from a parallel world. Gohan, Hermione, Ron, and Neville moved through the train after it'd stopped. Stepping off, Gohan noticed the large form of Hagrid, standing on the edge of the lake, a multitude of boats behind him.

"Firs' years!" Hagrid called loudly. "Over here! The rest o' yeh, go ter the carriages!"

"Hey, Hagrid," Gohan said as they got closer. "What's all this?"

"Oh, Gohan!" Hagrid said happily, scooping the embarrassed boy into a bear hug that would've broken a normal person's spine. "Its good ter see yeh! I'm takin the firs' years across the lake, its Hogwarts tradition! After that, yeh get sorted into yer houses an' then there's a huge feast!"

"Feast?" Ron asked, excited. "All right!"

"That sounds good, Hagrid," Gohan said as the giant man put him down. "Let's get moving, then!"

"How do you know him?" Hermione asked as the four of them took their places in the nearest boat.

"He came to get me," Gohan said, choosing his words carefully. "I guess you could say he, uh, found me, said I'd been accepted to Hogwarts."

"That's strange," Hermione said, narrowing her eyes. "I read in _Hogwarts, A History_ that they send acceptance letters to all new students."

"Mine must have been sent to the wrong place," Gohan offered.

Hermione seemed to accept this, but Gohan could still feel a small piece of disbelief in her. Not that he blamed her, his excuse had been, admittedly, a bit weak. He honestly didn't know how much to reveal to people, but he knew Mr. Piccolo would want him to play it safe until he was sure he knew with what, and whom, he was dealing. While he'd spent a fair amount of time in and around the castle before the term started, Gohan appreciated the grandeur the castle presented at night time, especially from the perspective the boats offered. From here, Hogwarts looked large, awe-inspiring, and no doubt more than a little imposing. The many windows dotting the castle's stone structure gleamed with a warm, orange light, giving the place a distinctly mystical feel.

As they disembarked from the boats, Hagrid led the group of gawking kids up to the main stairs leading into the castle. There, Professor McGonagall waited, nodding fractionally to Gohan before calling the first years to fall in and follow her, which they did readily, no doubt understanding that this was a woman who brooked no nonsense. Up a few more flights of stairs, Gohan found himself in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, one of the places he hadn't been. It was an impressive room: high, vaulted ceilings magically reflected the sky above them. There were four large, long wooden tables each with a banner above them, symbols of their associated house. At the far end of the room, a long table sat above the others; at the centre sat Professor Dumbledore, flanked by numerous teachers. A multitude of candles hovered around the room, bathing it in soft light.

"When I call your names," Professor McGonagall called from a single wooden stool with an odd, pointed, patchwork hat atop it. "You will step forth and place the Sorting Hat on your head. When it calls out your house, you will go to your assigned table."

After that, Professor McGonagall started calling names. Hermione sat on the stool for what felt like ages, shifting uncomfortably at the people gazing at her before the hat called out "Gryffindor." The hat also spent more than a few moments on Neville's head before it called out "Gryffindor" in a tone that sounded like it wasn't entirely sure of its decision.

"Gohan, Son," Professor McGonagall called out. Not missing a beat, Gohan stepped forward and sat on the stool. An odd feeling washed over his head as the Sorting Hat was placed upon it.

"Hmm," the hat said in his mind. "Most interesting...I see things. Impossible things. _Impressive_ things. You're no mere eleven year-old are you, my boy?"

Gohan's eyes widened in alarm, _this thing was reading his mind!_

"Indeed, I am," the hat said evenly. "Worry not, I will not reveal anything I find in here, you have my confidence," noting Gohan's more relaxed composure, it continued. "There are a lot of conflicting feelings in here, aren't there? You want to be a warrior like your father, but you don't enjoy fighting like he does. You enjoy your schoolwork with your mother, even if it can be boring. I sense the deep love you feel for her and the rest of your friends, a loyalty that burns fiercely within you. But, more than that, I can see...a desire to prove yourself. A very strong desire to become more powerful. You don't seem to think you are, despite the fact that you've saved your world and attained great power. Where to put you...?"

 _I'm not really sure I can help,_ Gohan thought to the hat. _I honestly don't know that much about the houses, myself._

"Indeed," the hat agreed. "I see that you don't know much about our world. You'd do well in any of the houses. However, the greatest thing I feel in you, your greatest strength is your bravery. When the situation requires it, you rise to the call and give it everything you have. You...are the bravest person I've known since Godric Gryffindor himself, even if you don't think you are. With that said, I shall send you on to your new life as a GRYFFINDOR!"

* * *

Harry really didn't know what to think about this strange place, except that it was nice. Mrs. Chi Chi was a nice, if sad, woman; she never seemed to ask him for help with the housework, though he often volunteered. It was strange: cleaning was a sullen, solitary duty that Harry had no choice to perform when he was with the Dursleys. Here, while he didn't always enjoy the work, it felt good to help the woman that had basically taken him in. A few days into his stay, Harry was jarred by a loud knock on the door.

"Wonder who that is..." Chi Chi wondered quietly to herself as she opened the door. "Yamcha? What brings you here?"

"Just stopping by," Yamcha said as he walked in before he stopped, giving Harry an odd look. "This is the kid, huh?"

"His name's Harry Potter," Chi Chi responded, slightly rankled. "He's a guest here, so be nice."

"I'm always nice!" Yamcha cried in a wounded voice before turning to Harry. "How's it goin, Harry? What do you think of Earth, so far?"

"Its...taking a lot of getting used to," Harry replied sheepishly. "Mrs. Chi Chi has been really nice."

"That's our Chi Chi," Yamcha said affably, patting the smiling housewife on the back lightly. "She might have a temper, but she's good people. Ya know," Yamcha continued with a wistful sigh. "You kinda remind me of myself at your age, Harry."

"I do?"

"Mhm," Yamcha affirmed, nodding his head. "Shy, careful...more than a little scared of new people. But," Yamcha added, seeing Harry's quizzical face. "You're a good guy, I can feel it in ya."

"Feel it in me?" Harry asked. "What do you mean by that?"

"I can read your ki," Yamcha responded. "I can't read your every thought, but I can sense your feelings, and I can tell when people are lying to me."

"Really?" Harry said, hardly believing what he was hearing.

"Yeah," Chi Chi began fondly. "It was really nice when Gohan was a baby. Goku could take one look, and tell me if Gohan was hungry or needed changing."

"Ya know," Yamcha said, looking at Harry. "I could teach ya how to do it. Its not really hard, and its really useful. Could even teach you how to fly. I might not be able to bench press a continent like Vegeta, but I'm still strong!"

Harry could hardly believe what he was hearing. This guy, he looked really strong, like some of the bodybuilders he'd seen on the telly when the Dursleys would allow him to watch. His body looked like it'd been chiseled out of granite, and he'd just implied there were people even stronger than he was! And he was willing to teach him something! Harry couldn't help but blush a little and shuffle his feet. Everyone here was so...so kind. Mrs. Chi Chi was sad, but in the short time he'd been in her home, he'd felt more loved than he ever had being Vernon and Dudley's punching bag. Thinking about the times his cousin, brutish thug he was, would beat up on him, anger welled up in Harry's heart. It was hard to feel anything but numb acceptance, back there, but here...part of him was beginning to recognize just how _wrong_ the Dursleys were, and it hurt. That strangers loved him more than his own family, that he'd been tormented by his own flesh and blood, it lit a fire in the pit of his stomach, and Harry had his answer.

"Please," Harry said, a hint of anger in his voice. "Teach me."

 **Author's Notes**

This one has been a very long time coming. I really just couldn't stop for a while, there, shit _just kept coming_. This will easily be the longest chapter of anything I've ever written and its an intro! I think, for this, I'll keep that as something of a running theme. Unfortunately, that will mean slower updates. Since I have two perspectives (and not just one, as with the others) going on, I'll have more to put into a single chapter, so that'll help. This idea came to me quite a while ago and I thought it'd make an interesting write. Turns out I was correct! I _really_ enjoyed showing Hagrid well and truly _furious_. Especially at Vernon, one of the most massive pricks in fiction, if you ask me.

That's about it for now...at least, that's all I can think of, currently. I'll catch you guys later for Chapter Two of _Interrupta Vitae_ , First Classes and Eternal Dragons! Take care!


	2. First Classes and Eternal Dragons

**Interrupta Vitae**

Chapter Two: First Classes and Eternal Dragons

Gohan awoke the morning after the Sorting Feast a little sleepier than usual, but apparently well before the other boys in his dormitory. Sharing a room with other people was a strange experience for an only child, though that would have been soon to change, as he knew his mother had told him that he'd have a little brother or sister, soon. After getting dressed, nearly forgetting his school robes, Gohan checked his schedule. Potions with a Professor Severus Snape was first on his list after breakfast. He remembered Ron complaining rather loudly to his brothers, and Gohan gathered that this Professor Snape was a singularly unpleasant man. Not wanting to potentially lag behind the others in the class, especially Hermione who seemed to devour books like his father did meals, he brought his potion book, as well as the others he'd need that day and some writing supplies, in his bag and headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Gohan seemed to have awoken far earlier than most of the other students. According to the clock on his nightstand, he was a full hour early for breakfast. His training for the arrival of the cyborgs had him well used to waking up well before dawn, his father not wanting to waste any more time than was strictly necessary. Looking around, he saw a few scattered early arrivals who looked as though they'd only arrived minutes behind him. Most of them looked like older students, one hand shoveling food into their mouths and the other either propping open a book or writing on a sheaf of parchment. Gohan smiled at their industriousness. Even if they weren't training their bodies, there was something oddly comforting about seeing people dedicated to training their skills. His meal nearly finished, the rest of the students arrived and began making morning conversation.

"Hey, Gohan," Ron said, sitting next the half-Saiyan as he read his book and absentmindedly chewed on a slice of bacon. "You keep some really early hours, don't you?"

"I had to," Gohan replied, absorbing as much of the information as he could before putting the book down, marking his page as he did. "Training with my dad, he had me up before dawn. Didn't want to waste time on anything...except maybe breakfast."

"At least he had his priorities somewhat straight," Ron laughed before scooping up a pair of fried eggs, a few slices of toast, and a smattering of bacon.

"Reading before classes?" Hermione asked Gohan happily, sitting to his other side.

"Yeah," Gohan replied, leaning back a bit to relax. "I remember Ron and his brothers saying he was a...how'd they put it? A 'right nasty piece of work?'"

"Got that right," Ron replied darkly. "Of course, what'd you expect from the head of Slytherin?"

"It seems strange," Gohan began, furrowing his brow. "That they'd let a teacher stay when he has such a negative reputation."

"I think that," Hermione replied, finishing her toast and taking a drink of pumpkin juice. "Has to do with his rather...unique position. Potions masters aren't easy to find, let alone replace. They tend to only take on a handful of specially-chosen apprentices, not teaching entire classrooms."

"Why are they so hard to come by?" Gohan asked.

"Getting a Potions mastery is dangerous work," Hermione responded, tapping her chin in thought. "I read all about different mastery programs after Professor McGonagall visited my family to deliver my Hogwarts letter. Anyway," she continued, shaking herself away from the tangent. "You have to prove you can brew a lot of very difficult, very dangerous potions to an accredited Potions master. A lot of people either end up going for easier mastery programs or...well...blowing themselves up."

"That makes sense," Gohan said with a wince. _Guess its a lot like chemistry_ , he thought to himself.

Neville joined the group for breakfast shortly thereafter. The conversation drifted to less serious topics, like the magical world's favourite sport, Quidditch, about which Ron was rather noticeably...excitable. He was also looking forward to his flying lessons...apparently, witches and wizards used brooms to fly. It sounded ridiculous to Gohan, and he wondered if his friends could be taught to fly the way he does. They might not have a lot of ki, but flying really didn't take that much power unless you wanted to go really fast. Gohan filed away the idea for later, as a different subject entered his head, something he remembered from the train ride to Hogwarts: the last war.

"Not to be morbid," Gohan began a bit sheepishly. "But...well, do you guys know any books about the war? The one against You-Know-Who? I'd like to know more about it, get to know the world I'm in a little better."

" _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Lord_ ," Hermione replied almost immediately. "Its the best book on the subject I could find at Diagon Alley. They might have a copy in the library."

"Thanks, Hermione," Gohan said before noticing the other students getting up. "Looks like its time to head to class."

Ron groused quietly as he, Gohan, Hermione, and Neville made their way down to the dungeons. The stonework grew cold as Gohan trudged down the hallway leading to the door. As he grew closer, he saw a small plaque to the side that read "S. Snape, Potions Master." Walking quietly into the room, Gohan and the rest of his group sat in a line on an unoccupied table. Quietly, he sent out his senses, gauging the emotions of the students in the room. A mild fear, mixed with trepidation and no small amount of expectation pervaded the area, though about half the students seemed to be less anxious than the rest. His schedule said this was a joint class between Gryffindor and Slytherin, so the other half had to be the latter. He saw the platinum blonde head of Draco Malfoy, holding forth with a particularly unattractive girl about something. Gohan was shaken out his reverie by the sound of a large door slamming shut. Swooping through the room like a massive bat, Gohan watched Professor Severus Snape subtly watch the students in the room as he made his way to his blackboard.

"I am here," he began, turning swiftly to face the class. "To teach you the subtle and exact science of potion-making. There will be little foolish wand waving. Few of you," he added, sending a piercing look across the room. "Can understand the simple beauty of a bubbling cauldron, the power behind the shimmering fumes. For those few of you with the proper...disposition, I can teach you to bottle fame, brew luck, and even stopper death. Let us see..." he continued, looking down the parchment on his hand. "Son, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"I don't know, sir," Gohan replied simply. "That wasn't covered in the book."

"Disappointing," Snape replied, shaking his head slowly. "Where would I look to find a bezoar?"

"Bezoar," Gohan ruminated, searching his brain for the familiar word. "The stomach of a goat, I believe."

"Well well well," Snape said, his eyes twitching almost imperceptibly. "You might not be a complete waste of my time. Granger," Snape barked. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"Nothing, sir," Hermione replied quickly. "They're the same plant. Muggle botanists also call it aconite."

"What is the most common use of Mandrake, Granger?" Snape asked, barely a second after Hermione's answer.

"Antidotes, sir," Hermione responded.

"A know-it-all," Snape said under his breath. "Still, at least you _remember_ what you read."

For the next twenty minutes, Snape grilled the rest of the class on the uses of potion ingredients. Gohan was certain he was using material that they wasn't covered in their books; the half-Saiyan might not remember all the details, but he was fairly certain things like Polyjuice Potion and the Draught of Living Death weren't covered in the books he'd gotten from Flourish and Blott's. Did this man really expect his students to read years ahead? Trying to read the man's emotions to get a better feel for what his real goal was, Gohan found very little: there was no anger, no suspicion...one of the few things he could pick up was cold calculation. Perhaps he really was simply assessing their abilities, but Gohan had his reasons to doubt such a thing.

"I am sorely disappointed in you all," Snape said silkily. "Other than a few outliers, it seems none of you have even bothered to read the books for _this_ year, let alone anything beyond. If you want to succeed here, you will have to actually _apply yourselves_." Looking at the clock, Snape nodded marginally. "Seeing as we no longer are in possession of adequate time to brew an actual potion, your assignment is to write no less than twelve inches of parchment on the uses for shrivelfig and wormwood. Now, begone."

"There's something...weird, about him," Gohan said to his companions as they walked down the hall towards the Great Hall.

"I think that's just Snape, mate," Ron said. "Honestly, he's kind of scary."

"What I don't get is," Neville began, shaking himself a little. "Why'd he ask us about stuff way above our level? I...I didn't read the whole book, but I know a lot of the stuff he mentioned is third and fourth year material."

"Well above that, Neville," Hermione added. "I have one of the seventh year textbooks, and he was asking questions out of _that_. Though, maybe he was just gauging our aptitude, seeing how willing we are to push ourselves to understand the material."

"Maybe," Gohan said as they sat down for lunch amidst an ever-increasing crowd. "But, I get the feeling he's hiding something. I can't really tell what, though."

"He's a grown wizard, Gohan," Ron said, building himself a towering sandwich. "Some of the stuff they know is dangerous."

"Some of the stuff _I_ know is dangerous," Gohan said under his breath before digging into the food he'd put on his plate.

Looking around, he noticed that his comment had caught the attention of at least one person. Hermione was giving him a long, appraising look, and Gohan wondered if his slip had been a mistake or a blessing. On one hand, he didn't really know Hermione very well as a person. She was friendly enough, and definitely intelligent. He saw her reading once, during breakfast, and she read even faster than he did. The way she almost immediately became his friend, though...well, maybe she just hadn't had many before now. Gohan himself recalled how, during their trip to Namek, Bulma had told him all about the bullying she faced because she was smart. It was sad to think of someone like her being a scared, lonely kid...like Neville.

Thinking about his other new friend, Gohan was sure he had at least a working understanding of Neville Longbottom. The boy was, admittedly, not that difficult to figure out: he was scared. Of what, Gohan couldn't quite pinpoint, but the Son of Goku could practically smell the fear on him, sometimes. There was more to it than that, though. Neville seemed almost...sad. Like Gohan himself was. It was hard thinking of someone going through the same thing as him, and Gohan surmised that's why he had such an easy time befriending the timid boy. Maybe...maybe, he could help him, like Mr. Piccolo did. After all, that's what his dad would do. Thinking about it that way, Gohan began forming a plan in his mind. Then, another idea hit him as they got up and walked towards their next class for the day, Transfiguration.

"Did Dumbledore ever participate in the last war?" Gohan asked, his eyes narrowed in thought.

"Participate?" Ron asked with a coughing laugh. "He practically led our side, according to dad."

"Like a general?" Gohan asked. He needed to know about what actually happened during that war. Maybe something about it would give him a clue as to how he and Harry had switched places. Maybe someone used some weird magic on Harry as a form of revenge. If that were the case, maybe he could find out who did it and track them down.

"I guess," Ron replied with a shrug. "Though, if what dad says is true, Dumbledore is still sort of playing the part, even if he isn't working on taking down the Death Eaters directly."

"Why would he do that?" Gohan asked to himself, before his expression turned grim. "He doesn't think the war is over."

"Yeah," Ron said. "But, I mean, You-Know-Who is dead and most of his followers are either dead or in Azkaban."

"That wouldn't stop someone from filling in in his place," Gohan said darkly.

"Like Lucius, Malfoy's dad," Ron responded with a hint of anger. "He's got the money, and he's a slimy snake."

"I need to talk to Dumbledore," Gohan said under his breath as they walked up to the door to the Transfiguration classroom.

Gohan walked into the room and found a seat near his friends as thoughts ran around his mind. _Dumbledore fought in the last war, he might know who all was loyal to this Dark Lord_ , he thought as a tabby cat climbed up on to a stool set at the front of the class. _The Dark Lord might have someone who specialized in teleportation magic, enough to pull something like this off, enough to make it look like an accident._ Gohan's thoughts were derailed as the tabby cat jumped from the desk and, in midair, shifted into the form of Professor McGonagall. He arched an eyebrow, it wasn't something he hadn't seen before, Oolong and Puar could both shape shift, but theirs always happened in a puff of smoke, this was far smoother. The rest of the class gasped in amazement and Gohan spotted an almost imperceptible smile on the stern Professor's face, as well as a feeling of satisfaction emanating from her.

"Good afternoon, class," Professor McGonagall said primly. "I am here to teach you the art of Transfiguration. Through it, you shall learn to transform objects and even living creatures from one form into another. Transfiguration is very demanding, both magically and mentally. You will learn to hold images in your mind and mold your magic with great care. To excel here is to excel in controlling your gift. Alongside Charms, this class forms the basis of all wandwork. Before we settle in and perform our first transfigurations, however, we much learn the laws that govern our work, as violating them can lead to extremely dangerous results. With that in mind, can anyone tell me the first Principal Exception to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration?"

Hermione's hand shot up and, upon receiving a nod from the Professor, said, "The First Principal Exception to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration is food. To put it into layman's terms, you can't create food using magic. You can summon some, if you know where it is, and you can increase the quantity if you already have some on hand, but you can't, for example, turn a stick into a biscuit and eat it."

"Very good, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said with a fractional smile. "Five points for Gryffindor. In fact, you very nearly hit on to _why_ this is the case. Can anyone guess as to why one cannot transfigure the inedible into the edible?"

No one's hand went up. Not surprising, as Gohan knew that particular bit wasn't covered in their books. Thinking on it logically, Gohan soon realized why this would be the case and, just a moment before Hermione, he sent his hand into the air.

"Go ahead, Gohan," Professor McGonagall said.

"I don't know if this is actually the case," Gohan prefaced before lowering his head a bit. "But...I think its because whatever you transfigure is still the original object you started with, just in a different form. So, while I could change a piece of paper into something resembling a ham sandwich, it wouldn't provide any actual nourishment, because what I'm eating is still paper, just with the appearance of a ham sandwich."

"Precisely," McGonagall replied with another nod. "Another five points to Gryffindor. Never forget this, class: whatever you transfigure will always remember what it used to be, originally. So, while you can use your magic to make a stone into a sword, one can just as easily use magic to reverse the transformation, no matter how long its been since you transfigured it."

For a few minutes afterwards, all one could hear was the scratch of quill on parchment as Professor McGonagall went over the various laws of transfiguration. To Gohan's gimlet eye, this seemed to be the most scientific of the kinds of magic he'd seen, so far, and understanding it was easy enough. While not quite as cut-and-dried as potion-making, transfiguration had rules aplenty, and was broken down into several discrete steps. Thankfully, Gohan had little problem with visualization, since that was one of the main ways one learned to mold ki. As they were given their first assignment, turning a match into a needle, Gohan had the distinct sense that, aside from Hermione, he was well ahead of the curve.

"I do expect at least a partially-complete transfiguration by the time class is dismissed," McGonagall said formally. "Remember that you must concentrate on the image in your mind and let your magic mold the object. This is as much about power as it is control."

Control was something Gohan had in spades, but that was ki. Holding his wand over the match on the desk in front of him, Gohan was having a hard time getting the magic to flow. Reaching within himself, Gohan felt the magic within and, like channeling his ki, he pulled the magic out through his fingertips and let it flow through the wooden shaft they held. A small beam of barely-visible light began to pour out of his wand, changing the shape of the match. A kernel of excitement popped in his mind and, before he could react, the soft glow turned into a bright flare, and the match was reduced to ash.

"Aah, Mr. Gohan," McGonagall said, walking over to the young half-Saiyan. "It would seem you let your emotions get the better of you. Your magic responds to your feelings as much as it does your will. While shunting large amounts of power into a spell might be useful for some charms and curses, transfiguration needs a light touch."

A wave of her wand restored the match to its original state and Gohan was left to try again. Gohan heard a snicker from the far side of the class, but he shut it out. Focusing harder this time, Gohan let only a small amount of this new power flow from him. After a few tense moments, the work was done: where once there was a wooden match, there now sat a slim, steel needle, ready for threading. Professor McGonagall walked over to him after he'd waved her down.

"Well done, Gohan," McGonagall said in an approving tone. "Few can get their control right after only one mistake, I am impressed. Top marks."

Gohan thanked her and had to good grace to blush a little at the compliment. From what he could tell, the somewhat forbidding woman was not the kind to give them out lightly. Hermione finished transfiguring her needle just a minute or two after Gohan and she, too, had received top marks from the Professor. By the end of the class, Neville and Ron had at least managed a thick, wooden needle, which was better than some of the barely-sharpened sticks he saw being collected. Apparently, neither boy wanted to be left behind by Gohan, something that made the young man smile inside. They had some free time before dinnertime, so Gohan excused himself, stating that he needed to talk to Professor Dumbledore. The others looked at him a bit oddly, but consented to, for the time being, going their separate ways. Making his way to the gargoyles he'd seen when Hagrid had first brought him to Hogwarts, Gohan tapped on one, not really knowing what he was doing, and told it that he was requesting an audience with Professor Dumbledore. A few moments later, the gargoyle moved aside and Gohan ascended the spiral staircase up to the doors of Dumbledore's office.

"Gohan, my boy," the bearded gentleman said in a kindly voice. "What can I do for you, this evening?"

"I was talking with Neville and Ron," Gohan began, deciding it was best to simply get to the point. "And, they told me that you fought against You-Know-Who in the last war...and, well, that you don't think the war's over, yet."

"Well, they aren't wrong," Dumbledore said, motioning Gohan to sit in front of him. "While he certainly did die that fateful Halloween, I have reason to believe that he still haunts the world of the living and is planning to return. Some strange power Harry had as a baby protected him from the Killing Curse Voldemort used on him, causing it to rebound. Speaking of strange powers," Dumbledore continued, his eyes twinkling madly. "I hear you displayed a rather odd ability on the train with Mr. Malfoy."

"I...haven't really had a chance to talk to you about this," Gohan admitted. "But, I know how to use my ki to do things like fly."

"Ki, you say?" Dumbledore asked, stroking his beard. "What kind of power is this, if you don't mind my asking? Is it another kind of magic?"

"Not exactly," Gohan replied easily. "From what I've been able to gather, only some people in this world have magic. Ki is in everyone and everything, from me to the trees to you, Professor. Its a sort of living energy, I guess."

"This is a power anyone could learn to use, hm?" Dumbledore asked quietly. "I must confess to find myself curious as to how this power works, but I'm afraid I might be too old to learn a new trick like that."

"I don't think you're too old, Professor," Gohan stated kindly. "My father's master developed the Kamehameha wave, and I think he was at least a hundred years old, at the time."

"Perhaps another time, my boy," Dumbledore said with a smile and a small laugh. "Now, I get the feeling that there was more to your visit than merely asking me about Voldemort."

"Voldemort?"

"That was the name he chose for himself when he took the mantle of Dark Lord," Dumbledore stated simply. "It is a name many wizards fear to speak, preferring to use euphemisms like 'You-Know-Who.' However, there is little to fear in a name. Names are, after all, just words, it is the men behind them that one should mark with care."

"That's true," Gohan admitted. "I wanted to ask you if this Voldemort had anyone who specialized in any kind of teleportation magic, maybe someone who knew well enough to make an intentional teleportation look like an accident."

"A good question," Dumbledore said, placing his chin on his hands. "Many wizards during the war made use of portkeys and apparition, there were few better tools for mobility and discretion, if one's target wasn't specifically warded against it. However, I wouldn't say that any of them, that I know of, were specialists in the area, but I wouldn't discount it, either. I could look into the old Death Eater trials and see if they turn up anything. I'm rather impressed by your reasoning skills."

"Well," Gohan began in an explanatory tone. "Where I come from, teleportation is a lot harder. My dad knew a technique called Instant Transmission that let you teleport to anyone you could sense, but he...never got around to teaching it to me. I thought that wizards might have done more research on it and would have more useful information. I still don't quite get exactly how magic works, so most of my reasoning is just educated guesswork."

"Never underestimate the power of an educated guess, my boy," Dumbledore said with a grin. "Great discoveries have happened because of them. I do, however, have...one final question for you, if I may." At Gohan's nod, he continued. "Exactly how powerful are you? I ask more out of curiosity than anything, since I saw some of your training exercises before the term started."

"I..." Gohan began before, a short moment later, deciding to simply tell the man the truth, as he couldn't sense any malice in him. "I fought a being called Cell. He...he killed my father and was powerful enough to destroy the sun, or so he claimed. I had to...I had to kill him."

Dumbledore blinked once. He'd silently cast a lie detection charm, just in case, but his wand, held carefully beneath his desk, had shown that the words Gohan spoke were nothing but the truth. "This is a lot to process," Dumbledore admitted after a few moments. "You certainly look quite strong, but I did not anticipate such a response. I...was there no other way?"

"There really wasn't," Gohan said, a slight edge to his voice.

"I'm sorry to dredge up painful memories," Dumbledore said gently, still off-balance from Gohan's previous answer. "I admit, I'm rather astonished. Powerful enough to destroy the sun, let alone the Earth...well, my boy, let me be the first to say that I am certainly glad that you're on our side. I will, of course, not let a single person outside this room know of what we spoke, today. Not without your prior consent, of course."

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," Gohan said with an uneasy bow.

As the young man excused himself for dinner, Dumbledore sat in his office, eyes focused sharply on nothing in particular. The Sorting Hat was designed not to violate a student's privacy and would tell only certain facts to even the Headmaster. Though it'd hinted that Gohan was by and far more powerful than he appeared, Dumbledore couldn't help but think that was a gross understatement. The boy appeared to have a good heart, and a good head on his shoulders, as he'd had the same idea a few days ago and was currently waiting on the results of his inquiry with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He didn't want to spoil the boy's triumph, children always did best when encouraged in their pursuits. The fact that he'd come to the conclusion on his own was interesting in and of itself, but what was more astounding was how forthcoming he'd been.

Perhaps, Dumbledore though on, the boy trusted him. Snape had told him that he had a well-defended mind, whatever power he had seemed to innately shield him from Legillimency, but the Potions professor said that he did manage to find that the boy was able to gauge a person's mental state. Perhaps this ki was responsible...maybe the boy could sense it, like wizards can feel magic, only his senses are more finely-tuned, allowing him to pick up on a person's general mental state, if not their exact thoughts. It wasn't working like Legillimency, if that was the case, since even an apprentice Occlumens can tell when they're being probed. What's more, the power, this ki, was in everything. He had it, and by extension, Voldemort himself had it, as well. So did his followers. Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. The Death Eaters must not get their hands on the boy, if they ever managed to find his secrets, there's no telling the amount of destruction they could cause. Gohan might not be the Chosen One as Harry, wherever he was, is, but he could prove to be the single most powerful ally the Light had. The boy had a good heart, the Headmaster could tell that easily enough, there was little doubt he'd align himself opposite the Death Eaters. Maybe, he could find a way to truly gauge the extent of the boy's power...

Gohan could sense them before he even heard them. Malfoy and his two associates were hiding in a nearby alcove and their hostile intent was palpable. A hissed " _petrificus totalus_ " later, and Gohan turned around, seeing a beam of light streaking towards him. He'd already powered up a little, when he'd felt their intent, and the spell was now moving with a painful slowness. Gohan easily moved out of the way, the spell striking the wall a few meters behind him and dissipating.

"You," Malfoy hissed angrily. "Think you're so bloody clever, don't you? Answering Snape's questions like you did and showing off in Transfiguration. Think you're better than me?"

"I got my hand up before you did," Gohan replied easily. "Its not my fault if you took longer than I did, maybe it just means you have things you need to work on."

"Are you mocking me?" Malfoy growled, his eyes wide with indignation. "Crabbe, Goyle, we need to teach this little _mudblood_ a lesson in respecting his betters!"

Gohan sighed inwardly. He was having a nice evening, until now. They shot more spells at him, and Gohan made note of the incantations and motions they used, a lesson Mr. Piccolo had drilled into him during his early training: learn your opponent's techniques wherever possible. Some of them, mostly those fired by Crabbe and Goyle, were so badly aimed that Gohan didn't even need to dodge them. The rest were moving so slowly that it was almost boring. The other boys, obviously deafened by their own righteous indignation, didn't hear someone approaching, someone Gohan had sensed coming for what felt like some time.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Professor McGonagall yelled angrily. "You will lower your wand, now!"

Shocked and angry, the three boys lowered their wands, looking surly.

"Twenty points from Slytherin," she continued, her voice still scorching. "For each of you, and a week's detention with Mr. Filch for your unprovoked attack on a fellow student! You are dismissed."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle stalked off angrily huffing as they made their way to the Great Hall for dinner. Professor McGonagall walked towards Gohan, her features settling back to normal.

"Are you unharmed, Mr. Gohan?" she asked in a softer than usual tone.

"I'm fine, Professor, thank you," Gohan replied with a small bow.

"I must say," Professor McGonagall said, her voice changing to one of mild wonder. "I don't think I've seen anyone move as quickly as I saw you move, then."

"I didn't really know any spells to defend myself with," Gohan admitted with a shrug. "And I figured I'd probably get in trouble if I'd knocked them out. They weren't that difficult to dodge, so I figured either a staff member would show up, or I'd just end up leaving."

"Indeed," Professor McGonagall said with an approving mod. "Five points to Gryffindor for your restrained response in not escalating the situation. While Hogwarts does have provisions in its rules for self defense I, nevertheless, applaud your reasonable approach."

"Thank you, Professor," Gohan responded with a smile. "I should probably head down to dinner before Ron, Neville, and Hermione send a search party."

"I'll not stop you, then," Professor McGonagall said, a marginal smile on her face. "I'll see you next time we have class."

Gohan walked down to the Great Hall, a plan forming in his head. He could feel that Dumbledore wasn't telling the whole truth with regards to Voldemort, or at least, wasn't telling him everything. It was most likely, in his mind, that the Headmaster didn't have all the pieces of the puzzle himself, and didn't want to give Gohan an incomplete, or worse inaccurate, picture. However, the fact remained that Dumbledore fervently believed that Voldemort would return, with the implication that it would mean war once again. Something inside Gohan said that his friends would be caught in the crossfire, were that to happen. Though he'd only known them a short time, Gohan cared for Hermione, Ron, and Neville, and he didn't want to see them get hurt. It was then that he'd decided on a course of action: even if he left this world, he'd leave it with defenders. He might not be as good a teacher as Mr. Piccolo or his dad, but he could at least teach his friends how to defend themselves without magic.

"Hey, mate!" Ron called out as Gohan walked over. "We saved you a spot! So," he continued a few seconds later after Gohan sat down. "How'd it go with the Headmaster?"

"Good," Gohan said in a slightly detached voice before fully turning his attention to his friends, motioning them to lean in closer, which they did as he whispered to them. "He told me that he's almost certain Voldemort will come back."

"Yeah," Ron replied quietly. "My mum told me about that when I asked her about Uncle Fabian."

"Well," Gohan continued, his nerves calming a little. "If he does come back, I...I don't want him to hurt you guys. So, I was thinking," Gohan breathed deep, this was the moment. "Would you guys like to learn to fight like me?"

They all looked alarmed, yet oddly pleased by Gohan's admission. Hermione was the first to speak up, saying in a hushed voice, "Can you really teach us?"

"I can, yeah," Gohan said slowly, the tension ebbing out of him. "I remember what Mr. Piccolo and my dad taught me. If you guys can learn to use your ki, then you can better defend yourselves. Wizards here don't even seem to know about it, yet. The only one that's got any idea is the Headmaster, and I don't think he'd tell the bad guys."

Surprisingly, it was Neville that spoke next, his voice oddly hard, "When can we start?"

After that, they made plans to meet on the weekend, just outside the Quidditch pitch. While they did have some free time on the weekdays, aside from Friday when they had double Potions, Gohan thought it best, and the rest agreed, that it'd be for the best if they had as much free time as possible. Learning to use one's ki was a difficult task and pressure wasn't conducive to those first few attempts to draw out their latent power. That night, Gohan had the strangest dream...

* * *

"Concentrate," Yamcha said calmly. "Feel the power within, like the heat of a flame. Let it fill you up and slowly draw it from your centre, down your arms, and out your fingertips."

Harry sat cross-legged on the grass in the Son family's back yard. Ever since that day when Mr. Yamcha had offered to teach him how to be strong, Harry had been putting forth as much effort as he could manage. Unfortunately, the neglect he'd suffered at the hands of his relatives had, in Yamcha's words, left him far less physically able than a normal child his age. However, Harry had sworn to make up for lost time, and Mrs. Chi Chi seemed just as determined to help him in his goals, ensuring he ate well every day, even if that occasionally meant shoving a sandwich in his face and ordering him to eat. Mrs. Chi Chi was a very kind woman, but she brooked no nonsense. So much for the better, too, as Harry was feeling better in ever measurable way.

Concentrating, Harry felt a small warmth begin to spread from within him, coming from his chest. Slowly, the power filled him and, gently guiding it, pulled some of the power down his arms and into his hands, then out from his fingertips. Opening his eyes, Harry looked between his hands, astonished. There, lying right at the centre, was a small, glowing orb of pulsating energy: ki. Harry let the energy dissipate gently, a pleased smile forming on his face.

"Well done!" Yamcha said excitedly, patting Harry on the shoulder. "And, you didn't let it get out of control, either!"

"That's amazing," Harry said, awed. "Its really...warm."

"That's how you know you're doing it right," Yamcha said, sitting beside Harry. "Ki works best when you're calm or doing what you feel is right. Now that you've got the basics down, I can teach you the _really_ fun stuff!"

"Like what?" Harry asked excitedly.

"Like this," Yamcha said with a cocky grin as he tossed a nearby rock into the air, disintegrating it with a ki blast.

"Whoa," Harry said in amazement. "You mean I can learn to do that?"

"All that and more," Yamcha replied with a nod. "I think the next thing we'll learn, though, is how to sense ki. Now that you know what it is, how to use it, and what it feels like, you should be ready to learn to feel it in others. When you're good enough, you can gauge a person's feelings by the flow of their ki and you can also use it to predict how an enemy is going to attack you. Oh!" Yamcha added, startled, as a car flew into view. "Looks like Bulma's here! She must have gotten the Dragon Balls."

As she landed, Harry recalled the first time he'd met the blue-haired woman, a few days ago...

"So," Bulma asked Chi Chi as they decided on a plan. "What did Dende say? Can we even do it?"

"Piccolo came by yesterday," Chi Chi said, her hand on her chin as she looked thoughtful. "He said that Dende said that he honestly didn't know if Shenron would be capable of it, since he hasn't had much time to study the magic that Kami used to create the statue that was used as a template for him."

"It can't hurt to try," Bulma said after a moment. "If he can't pull Gohan back, maybe he could at least relay a message, let him know that we're going to find a way to bring him back."

"If Shenron can't bring him home," Chi Chi said, sad notes creeping into her voice. "How can we bring him back?"

"I had an idea on that, actually," Bulma said confidently, trying to reassure her friend. "Trunks, the one from the future, left something behind, a way to call him if we needed him or if any other creations of that jerk Gero came knocking. His version of me created the time machine, but it seems to operate on multiverse theory instead of actually traveling through a single timeline. If she and I could work together, we might be able to build a machine to go to whatever world Gohan wound up in and bring him back."

"You really think it could work?" Chi Chi asked, hopeful.

"Apart from Shenron," Bulma said with a nod. "Its our best shot. So," Bulma continued, changing tack. "How's Harry doing?"

"He's been training with Yamcha," Chi Chi said, her features relaxing. "The poor boy was abused so badly for so long, I don't know if he'll ever get all the growth he has coming to him, but bless him, he's trying."

Harry started to tear up a little as he listened. She really did care about him.

"Well, that explains why Yamcha's been less mopey, lately," Bulma remarked with a small laugh. "I actually want to do something nice for him, I bet he's helping Harry out a lot more than he thinks."

"I agree," Chi Chi said before she, herself, laughed a little. "I can't say I expected _Yamcha_ to take up a student. Maybe Krillin or Tien, but not Yamcha."

"You're telling me," Bulma replied, laughing. "Or, at least, not a _male_ student."

"Yamcha with a female student," Chi Chi said with a mock shudder. "That poor girl..."

"Tell me about it," Bulma said before Harry heard her get up from her seat. "Well, I should head out, its been great talking to you. I'll see if Tien or Krillin want to help out with gathering the Dragon Balls. I could probably do it by myself, but it doesn't hurt to have some muscle on my side if things get hairy."

"You take care of yourself, Bulma," Chi Chi said in a friendly tone. "And stay safe."

Though they'd not been formally introduced, Harry still got the feeling he'd like Bulma. She had a certain _joie de vivre_ that Harry noted when he'd accidentally listened in on her and Chi Chi's conversation. It was good to have so many nice people around him, for a change. No Vernon trying to punch him for small mistakes, no Petunia berating him missing a spot in his cleaning...no Dudley chasing prospective friends away. He still woke up, some days, expecting to hear his aunt and uncle, his so-called "family," yelling at him to get breakfast ready for the equivalent of half a dozen people. But, the walls of the guest room in which he'd been sleeping were becoming familiar, a balm to his mind. After introductions has been squared away, Piccolo flew in, claiming he'd heard them all the way from the Lookout. If he were back in his old world, Harry would've thought him mad, or at least that he was lying, but given the things he'd seen so far, his perception of reality had been stretched to include things like hearing everything on the planet.

"Here they are!" Bulma said triumphantly, producing a brown bag with what looked like several baseballs inside. "Tien helped me get 'em, but said he wanted to get back to training when we were done."

"Always so serious," Yamcha remarked. "That's our Tien. Well, what are we waiting for?"

With that, Bulma poured the contents of the bag on to the ground. Seven golden orbs, seemingly made of glass, with stars inside settled into position, giving off a slowly pulsing, golden light. Harry's heartbeat went up a notch, a sense of trepidation filling his mind. He didn't know what to expect, but something with the power to grant wishes had to be awesome.

"Eternal dragon," Bulma began, placing her hands over the Dragon Balls. "Hear my call and fulfill my desires! In your name, I summon you! Shenron!"

Harry nearly went blind as the balls exploded with a brilliant, white-gold light. When his vision cleared, he saw that the sky had gone black and the Dragon Balls were hidden by a font of intense light. However, that was secondary to what was filling his vision: a massive, serpentine dragon was lowering its head to face them. Whiskers on either side of its snout gave it a wizened, powerful look. Contrasting with its green scales were a pair of glowing, crimson eyes. It opened its fanged maw and, for a moment, Harry was worried the dragon was going to eat them. Then, like thunder, a voice boomed from the majestic creature.

"I am the Eternal Dragon," it said. "Name your two wishes, that I may return to my slumber."

"Shenron," Chi Chi said, stepping up to the dragon. "My son, Gohan, has disappeared to a different world. I ask that you return him to me."

"I am unable to grant this wish," Shenron said simply after a few moments. "Pulling life from between universes is beyond my capabilities. Name your second wish."

"In that case," Chi Chi said under her breath, before returning to her normal voice. "I ask that you relay a message to my son, wherever he is. Tell him: we're going to get you back, no matter what. Bulma has a plan. Just hold on until we get there. I love you."

"Your wish is granted," Shenron said, his eyes glowing bright. "The message has been relayed. Your wishes have been granted, farewell!"

The Dragon Balls flew into the sky at Shenron's proclamation after the dragon disappeared, and shot in seven different directions as the darkness cleared and daylight returned.

"Well, damn," Yamcha said quietly. "That's a bummer."

"At least he knows that we'll find him," Chi Chi said, trying as best she could to reassure herself. "I won't let my son stay in a strange world forever."

"I'll get to work immediately," Bulma said, her face taking on a very serious look before placing a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Don't worry, Chi Chi, we'll find him. We're going to bring Gohan home, no matter what."

"Thank you, Bulma," Chi Chi said, pulling the surprised woman into a hug. "I can't express how grateful I am for all your help. If I can ever do anything to repay you, let me know."

"You don't need to give me anything, Chi Chi," Bulma said kindly. "I know how I'd feel if Trunks disappeared. You're my friend, I'm not going to let you suffer when there's something I can do about it," her voice dropped to a whisper. "Its what Goku would do."

* * *

What Gohan had been dreaming about before, he'd never recall, other than the strange sensation of his mind suddenly changing focus. He found himself in a world filled with static like in a television when it can't pick up a station. A booming voice, one it took him a second to recognize, rang out inside his mind.

"I, the Eternal Dragon," the disembodied voice of Shenron said. "Relay a message to you, Gohan, from your mother."

Just then, his mother appeared in the static world. She walked up to Gohan and pulled him into a tight hug, saying into his ear, "We're going to get you back, no matter what. Bulma has a plan. Just hold on until we get there. I love you."

"Mother," Gohan choked out. "Is this real?"

"It is, sweetie," the image of Chi Chi said quietly. "Shenron can't bring you home, but he was able to send you a message. Gohan," she continued, looking him in the eyes. "Its time to wake up."

"Will I remember this when I do?" Gohan asked, tears streaming down his face.

Chi Chi nodded, smiling sadly.

"I love you, mom," Gohan said, his voice breaking.

"I know, dear," Chi Chi replied, patting him on the head.

Gohan awoke to a damp pillow and a wet face. The message...it was real. Bulma had a plan to get him back home. She was the smartest person he knew, and he had little doubt that she'd be able to find a way. Wiping away the rest of his tears, Gohan steeled himself. He wouldn't rest on his laurels, that much was certain. This world needed help, and maybe he could find a way back, himself. Better to work from both ends of a problem than to just sit by and let one person do all the work. Gohan stretched his arms and scratched the back of his head, looking at the schedule sitting on his nightstand. He had Herbology and flying lessons today; the former with the Hufflepuffs and the latter with the Slytherins. Sighing, Gohan knew that meant only one thing: Draco Malfoy was going to be there again. Hopefully, the presence of a teacher would keep him from causing trouble, but the boy was quickly beginning to vex Gohan. It seemed like his unwillingness to be cowed was causing Malfoy to see him as a threat. Maybe Gohan's confidence was somehow harming the blonde boy's standing in his own house? Were Draco's peers really that petty? Was Draco _himself_ that petty? Shaking his head, Gohan decided that was a train of thought for another time. As it was, he needed to ready himself for the day. A quick shower later, Gohan headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast, his stomach reminding him that he was still his father's son.

Gohan sat down at the relatively empty table, apparently he'd woken up earlier than most of the other students. The only ones down looked to be older than him and his friends, probably the upperclassmen. Slowly over the next few minutes, students began to trickle in, seeking the still-hot edibles heaped upon the tables. Ron, Hermione, and Neville sat down next to Gohan, the trio still a little groggy from their early wake-up.

"Gohan, mate," Ron said with a yawn as he speared a particularly large sausage and dropped it on to his plate. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Why do you ask?" Gohan asked a little defensively.

"I could've sworn I heard you sniffling a lot last night," Ron said quietly. "Thought maybe you were getting sick or something."

"Oh," Gohan said quickly, his face reddening in embarrassment. "No, I'm not sick or anything."

"Having bad dreams, then?"

"Y-yeah..." Gohan replied hesitantly.

"Ron," Hermione said warningly. "Don't pry."

"I'm not trying to!" Ron responded, throwing his hands up as if to deflect a blow. "I'm just concerned for my friend, is all."

"I appreciate it," Gohan said slowly. "Just...its something I'd rather talk about when there aren't so many people around."

"That's alright," Neville said in a comforting voice. "Take your time, we aren't going anywhere."

They continued their breakfast, moving on to easier topics. Ron didn't seem to think much of Herbology, but Neville got a slightly peaceful, wistfully happy look on his face when the subject was brought up and it didn't take a psychologist to see that the subject was more than just academic for the boy. When the subject of flying came up, Gohan learned that wizards flew on brooms, of all things. The idea sounded patently ridiculous, not to mention unnatural. At any rate, Gohan had already resolved to teach his friends to fly properly under their own power. No use flying into a dangerous situation on what amounted to kindling.

As they walked out to the greenhouses, the sun beating down on them, Gohan wished he had more time for training. His muscles were aching abominably, and he couldn't shake the restless feeling he got when he was stuck in the same room for a long time. He honestly didn't know how normal people could stand it, just sitting around all day. Maybe he could work in some training today after flying lessons. Just find a nice, quiet area and let out some of the tension that was building up inside him.

"Hey," Gohan whispered to his friends while they waited for Professor Sprout to arrive. "I was thinking about doing some training between flying lessons and dinner. Would you guys like to come along?"

"What kind of training?" Hermione asked, quite obviously curious.

"Mostly physical training," Gohan answered without hesitation. "My muscles get really sore if I don't do at least some basic exercises every once in a while."

"That sounds cool," Ron stated with a grin. "Maybe you can show us some of the stuff you want to do over the weekend."

"That's the plan," Gohan replied with a nod. "Neville, how about you?"

"I guess it couldn't hurt," Neville responded in a slightly nervous voice as the Professor walked in.

"Greetings, everyone," she said amiably, looking over the class after roll call. "I am Professor Sprout, and we are all here today to learn about the many magical plants that you'll be using not only in your potion-making, but also in your everyday lives as witches and wizards," she tapped her wand on the potted plant in front of her. "First question: can anyone tell me what plant sits in front of you right now?"

Hermione raised her hand quickly and said, after a nod from Professor Sprout, "Its dittany, Professor, also known as Burning Bush. Its a very powerful restorative and healing agent."

"Excellent," Professor Sprout said, beaming. "Ten points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger! Indeed, dittany is something every medi-wizard worth their salt should carry with them. The leaves by themselves can heal most shallow cuts and abrasions when eaten, and a properly prepared Essence of Dittany is capable of healing deep lacerations, burns, and other grievous wounds. Now, take care," she added in a warning tone. "Immature dittany is all but useless. The plants we have with us today are still quite young, and not yet ready for any medical applications. I also must stress that dittany is most certainly _not_ a cure-all panacea. Do _not_ try and mix the potion for yourself and use it for some kind of idiotic bet, _is that understood_?"

"Yes, ma'am," the class said in unison, unnerved by the extreme seriousness that was coming from the genteel woman.

"Good," Professor Sprout continued, her voice returned to its normal, cheerful tone. "Needless to say, such a thing has happened. Thankfully, the culprits were stopped before anyone got seriously injured, but Madame Pomfrey insisted I make that particular warning _very_ clear. As for the plants themselves," she continued, pulling a pot from beneath the table. "This is a mature dittany plant, notice the brown colouration. Also of note are the vapours you see coming from the leaves intermittently. These vapours are, as the name 'Burning Bush' implies, flammable, so do take care when tending to dittany. I, myself, once accidentally burned off my own eyebrows when trying to make Essence of Dittany too close to a mature plant."

The class laughed at the admission and Professor Sprout smiled. Gohan decided that he liked this woman; there was no deception here, he could sense no underhandedness in her heart, just a kind, easy-going person dedicated to helping her students learn. Their task for the day consisted of carefully clipping the dead leaves from the plants, placing them in a special container to hold in their flammable vapours. It wasn't exactly difficult work, but Professor Sprout had told them that precision was needed because, if they cut too close to a live stem, they could damage the plant and prevent a new leaf from growing where the old one had been removed. It might not have been taxing work, but it was certainly calming, much like tending to the bonsai tree his mother had gotten him on his ninth birthday.

"Now, students," Professor Sprout said as the class neared its end. "Your homework for today is eight inches of parchment on the care and use of dittany, making special note of how to properly water the plant. I'll be collecting your work on Thursday, take care!"

Lunch was filled with anticipatory conversation regarding the upcoming flying lessons. Hermione looked a trifle green at the thought of flying on a broom, and Gohan heard her mutter under her breath, questioning how such a thing could possibly be safe. Gohan agreed with that sentiment, if they fell off without knowing how to fly, themselves, they'd run the risk of breaking something, and that was if they were flying over an empty field. Flying through a forest, without any kind of protection...accidents could get very messy. Ron was excited, his brothers, with the exception of Percy he noted, were mad about Quidditch and his older twin brothers, Fred and George, were on the house team. Gohan himself wasn't that into sports, unless one were talking about a martial arts tournament, like the kind in which his dad fought. Neville had shown them something his grandmother had sent him, a Remembrall, which was supposed to glow red when the holder has forgotten something. Gohan raised an eyebrow at that, wondering how such a thing could possibly be useful if it didn't actually _tell_ you what you've forgotten, but he let it slide, for the moment.

Gohan ruminated over the sheer ridiculousness of flying on a broom as they made their way out to a small clearing near the castle. A tall, thin woman stood before them, her head topped with short, spiked, gray hair and her angular face set in a look that exuded a "stern, but fair" aura.

"Everyone," the woman said as the rest of the class filed in. "Please stand by a broom. I am Madame Hooch, and today, I am here to teach you how to fly. You will follow my instructions _exactly_. Any foolishness, any horseplay, and I will have you in detention for the next two weeks, understand?"

The whole class nodded in assent, though Gohan noticed that, nearby, Draco had a superior, smug grin on his face.

"Good," Madame Hooch continued. "Now, place your hands over your brooms and say 'up.'"

Gohan compiled, and his broom rose easily into his right hand. Looking around, Neville's broom was rising steadily, but was a bit shaky. Ron's had practically hit him in the face, his enthusiasm had appeared to gotten the better of him. Hermione's broom had merely turned over as she looked increasingly frustrated. She looked at Gohan and he gave her a reassuring smile, silently communicating his confidence to her. He watched as she let out a long breath and, trying again, got her broom to rise steadily into her hand.

"Right," Madame Hooch said once their brooms were firmly grasped in their hands. "Now, mount your brooms and push off the ground gently, entering into a hover."

Neville, nervousness pouring from him, accidentally pushed too hard off the ground, sending him speeding into the air in a steep, vertical climb. About ten meters up, he lost grip from his broom and fell on his back to the ground below. Gohan, numb with shock, looked at his friend as Madame Hooch ordered all of them to the ground and looked over the unconscious boy. Gohan could sense he was at least still alive, but quite grievously injured. The flying instructor apparently felt much the same and cast some sort of charm that caused Neville's unconscious form to hover about a meter off the ground.

"All of you are to remain grounded until I return from the Hospital Wing," Madame Hooch said sternly. "Or I'll have you expelled before you can say 'Quidditch!'"

With that, Madame Hooch marched off with Neville, disappearing into the castle.

"Can you believe that?" Gohan heard Malfoy say derisively. "Longbottom really is a pathetic excuse for a wizard, isn't he? Almost makes me ashamed to be a Pureblood. What's this? Looks like Longbottom dropped something."

"Leave that alone, Malfoy," Hermione said angrily. "That belongs to Neville!"

"I don't take orders from you, _mudblood_ ," Malfoy spat, bouncing the Remembrall in his hand as Hermione pinked in anger. "Besides, I doubt Longbottom will miss it. I know," he continued, a smug grin on his face. "I think I'll put it somewhere he'll get to once he learns to fly like a proper wizard."

"Hand it over, Malfoy," Gohan said simply, holding out his hand as an ember began burning in his stomach. "Hermione was right, that doesn't belong to you, and I doubt the teachers would like it if they caught you stealing."

"If you want it so badly," Malfoy jeered as he pushed off the ground, leveling off several meters off the ground. "Let's see you take it from me!"

"That is it, I have _had it_ ," Gohan said, anger giving his voice a hard edge. "With your bullying, Malfoy!"

Gohan, not even giving a single thought to subtlety and completely ignoring his broom, shot off the ground, aiming straight for a surprised, and frightened, Draco Malfoy. Malfoy pushed his broom hard in the opposite direction, but Gohan appeared in front of him in a flash, nearly causing the blonde boy to crash headlong into him. Another flash later, and the Remembrall was in Gohan's left hand, and Draco looked at him as if he were a monster.

"Mark me, Malfoy," Gohan spat angrily. "I am stronger than you. I'm faster than you could ever hope to become. If you ever bully my friends again, _I will know_. This is your final warning."

"You don't-!"

"Draco Malfoy, Son Gohan," Gohan heard Professor McGonagall call loudly from the ground. "Get down here immediately!"

Gohan floated slowly to the ground, his face showing none of the fear and apprehension he could sense in his friends. He'd done right by his friends, and McGonagall had always been fair with him, but no matter how this went, he had no regrets. When Malfoy reached them, McGonagall motioned them to follow her without word. She brought them to a nearby empty classroom and closed the door behind them, using her wand to light the sconces in the room.

"Would either of you mind telling me," she began in a clipped voice that brooked no nonsense. "What _exactly_ I just witnessed through my office window?"

"Professor," Gohan said, not giving Malfoy a chance to make up some absurd lie. "Neville hurt himself during flying practice and dropped his Remembrall," he added, holding up the glass orb. "Madame Hooch was taking him to the Hospital Wing when Malfoy tried to steal it and hide it somewhere Neville couldn't get to. Hermione and I tried to get him to give it back, but he just taunted us and flew off."

"So," McGonagall said, her eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. "You pursued him, without the assistance of a broom, in an effort to retrieve the stolen property and return it to its proper owner?"

Just then, the door burst open and in the opening stood Professor Snape, a sour look on his face.

"Interrogating one of my students without my presence?" he asked silkily, an almost palpable sense of animosity coming from the Potions master.

"I was merely ascertaining the situation," McGonagall said carefully. "I wished to do so privately, nothing more. I was planning on sending for you after I had gotten both sides of the story. If I might ask, how _did_ you find us here?"

"I was on my way to speak with Professor Sinistra," Snape said easily. "To acquire one of her star charts. That was when I passed by this classroom and heard you addressing one of my students. If you really want to keep a conversation private, Professor, I suggest you close the door fully, next time."

"I shall keep that in mind," Professor McGonagall said in a measured, if somewhat clipped, tone. "Either way, Mr. Malfoy and Gohan were in an altercation during flying lessons, one I happened to see from my office window. Madame Hooch had grounded the class after Mr. Longbottom had an accident, so naturally, I was more than a little curious to see why these two young men were in the air without permission."

"I, too, find myself curious as to the cause of these events," Snape said, his face impassive even as his voice gained an oily quality. "Such actions are grounds for detentions, at the very least. Malfoy, explain yourself."

Malfoy shuffled a little under Snape's gaze as he spun a tale about Gohan becoming aggressive after he'd found that Neville had dropped his Remembrall and picked it up, intent on returning it. Even if it weren't for the almost palpable sense of falsehood coming from his aura, Malfoy's own body language was betraying him as he spoke. Apparently, both Professors picked up on this almost immediately, though neither showed it overtly outside a small, momentary narrowing of their eyes. Each Professor had decided to discipline their students individually, and Snape left, taking Malfoy with him, leaving Professor McGonagall and Gohan alone in the empty room.

"Mr. Gohan," Professor McGonagall began, her voice noticeably more relaxed, though still professional. "I have no doubt that you acted properly. However, I do find myself rather...intrigued by the way in which you dealt with the situation. Wizards who can fly on their own are exceptionally rare."

"Really?" Gohan asked, raising an eyebrow. "There aren't spells for that sort of thing?"

"There are indeed Levitation charms," McGonagall confirmed with a nod. "However, self-powered flight is a very difficult ability for a wizard to even attain, let alone master with the level of proficiency and speed you displayed."

"I believe," Gohan replied, lowering his voice a little. "That's because I'm not using my magic to fly, but my ki."

"Ki?" Professor McGonagall asked, her face actually belying her curiosity. "I'm afraid I don't understand fully what you mean. Is this some other form of magic you were taught before you came here?"

"Its not magic," Gohan responded, shaking his head. "At least, that's not how I'd describe it. Magic here, according to what I've read, is rare and largely hereditary. By contrast, all living things have ki, and anyone can learn to use it, with proper training."

"A universal force..." McGonagall said to herself, trying to remember where she'd first encountered the concept. "Ah, chi, that's why that sounds familiar. As I recall, that's the name for magic in the Far Eastern countries, especially Chinese wizards."

"They might be using something similar," Gohan allowed. "But, if it operates on the same laws as the magic here, I don't think its the same as ki. Magic and ki _do_ seem similar, in some areas, but ki is more...spiritual, I guess. Less dry facts and more intuitive."

"Fascinating," McGonagall said, unable to hold her intrigue in check before a thought occurred to her. "Why, pray tell, did you decide to use such speed against Mr. Malfoy? Would that not give your abilities away? I was under the impression that most children your age avoid appearing too different from their peers."

"I..." Gohan choked out, coming up short. "I don't have many friends here. Even back home, most of the friends I had were friends of...of my dad. I've had bullies threaten and pick on my friends before. Its not something I put up with, not anymore."

"I see," McGonagall said in a kind tone. "Your loyalty to your friends is commendable. I can certainly understand not tolerating bullies, especially where one's friends are concerned. I'm awarding five points to Gryffindor for your actions, even if they were against Madame Hooch's instructions, and I'll see to it that you face no disciplinary action for trying to retrieve stolen property."

"Thank you, Professor," Gohan said, his eyes wide with surprise, a pleased blush creeping up his cheeks as he bowed.

"I believe I have kept you from your friends for long enough," Professor McGonagall said, opening the door. "Enjoy the rest of your day."

Gohan, amazed at what had just transpired, walked back to flying lessons, trying to not let how pleased he was show too much. At least, not until he was with just his friends. Maybe what they'd seen would show them just what they could achieve, with training. Watching his dad and Mr. Piccolo fight had been scary, but there was always a part of him that was amazed at the kind of power they displayed, a part that knew they were training him, a scared little kid, to be every bit as strong as they were. Gohan vowed to make his friends strong, too. If any villain would ever try to harm them, he promised to ensure that it was the villain that would be sweating bullets, worrying about _their_ power.

* * *

"Alright, Harry, close your eyes," Yamcha said to his student. "Now, let your mind search. Ignore what your physical senses are telling you, focus on just what you can see in your mind, on what you can feel out."

Harry complied, doing his best to free his mind from his body. After a few moments, he noticed a light in his mind's eye where he knew Yamcha was standing. It was a pale blue and was flowing like water out from his body. Harry watched, eyes screwed shut, as the light jumped in the air several times and moved around. As he focused, Harry could make out legs, arms, and a head. The light was wrapped around Yamcha and, without even thinking about it, Harry knew he was flying. Continuing to concentrate, Harry noticed other lights and turned toward them, eyes shut, but startled. Not too far away was a light, this one slightly red in hue and it felt...kindly, motherly. A second later, Harry realized that he was sensing Chi Chi. Opening his eyes in astonishment, the lights didn't fade from his mind, though he could no longer directly see them. A new world had been opened up before him. A feeling of awe rushed over his mind as he felt the ki from the birds that flew overhead. Turning rapidly at the astonishing new sensation, Harry felt the trees, even the ground beneath him. No two sources were the same, but they all had a harmony, a warmth.

"This is..." Harry began, unable to find words to convey what he was experiencing.

"Its amazing, isn't it?" Yamcha said in a warm tone, remembering the first time he'd learned to sense ki.

"This is...you can feel this all the time?" Harry asked, his mouth slightly agape.

"Once the door's open, it never shuts," Yamcha stated. "That's how Tien put it. Accurate enough, though. Once you learn to feel ki, you can't _not_ do it."

Tears streamed down Harry's face. He was unable to speak. Everything was connected. It was as if he'd been thrust bodily into a hot spring. It had been shocking, at first, but the warmth that he now felt was nothing short of breathtaking. His senses had been expanded to include something he'd never have thought possible just a few short weeks before. He could sense more and more people, he could feel the Earth itself. It was a soaring, wonderful experience. Harry was now immensely glad that he'd accidentally come to this world. He'd felt the love of people for the first time and, now, he could feel the embrace of the world itself, as if it were welcoming him home for the first time.

 **Author's Notes**

Good _god_ , this took forever to write. I'm really sorry about this, guys. I've had to kind of refocus on school and work pretty hard, and most everything else has taken a hit because of it. I am making an active effort, now that things are _slightly_ less insane to write more, both in terms of completion and overall word count. In an effort to increase my own, personal, accountability, I have created a fanfic progress tracker, the link to which can be found on my profile. In it, you'll find when I started certain chapters, completed them, their word count, and a link to the posted content, as they become available. Hopefully, this will give me a proverbial kick in the backside to get things out there. Let's answer some of the first chapter's questions, shall we?

 **Great Saiyaman54:** I...don't know, actually. I haven't explicitly planned any pairings, since all the kids involved are still pretty young for romance of any sort. That said, I'm not going to completely discount the notion, but I will endeavour to make them appropriate to both the stories and the characters themselves.

 **Dovahkiin1503:** After Cell Games and Goku's funeral, otherwise, Earth would be MAJORLY screwed. As it is, Gohan's grieving process is the only thing (so far) that's been majorly tampered with.

 **Sakura Lisel and linkyss:** They're asking Dende because they don't want to run the risk of wasting the trip in getting the Dragon Balls if he knows, for a fact, that they won't work for this sort of thing. Think about how often they've needed them, just recently, to undo all the crap that's happened to Earth and its inhabitants. If some major shit goes down in the next year (not saying it will, just going thru their thought processes), then Shenron might not be around for a while to fix whatever the consequences of said major shit happen to be. That's not even going into how dangerous it might be to gather said magic wishing stones. Also, Shenron has hard limits, and the Z gang is aware of some of them, like not being able to bring back people who've been dead for more than a year or who died of natural causes. Reaching across to a _parallel universe_ is asking a lot, even for draconis ex machina.

I hope that's answered everyone's questions and I also hope you guys liked this! I'll catch you guys later for Chapter Three of _Interrupta Vitae_ , Training and A Namekian! Take care!


	3. Training and A Namekian

**Interrupta Vitae**

Chapter Three: Training and A Namekian

"Wednesday," Gohan said quietly, looking at his schedule. "Defense Against the Dark Arts and...History of Magic."

"Oh, Merlin," Ron moaned after taking a long drink of pumpkin juice. "Not History. Fred and George told me about that class. Apparently, it's taught by a ghost, Professor Binns, and he's easily the single most boring person in the entire school, according to them. I'm dreading his class almost as much as I was Snape's."

"At least Defense should be interesting," Neville said, trying to reassure his friend.

"Yeah, but the professor for that class is new," Ron replied. "I think Bill said that Hogwarts has had a different Defense professor every year since he was a first year, probably before. I think he said the position's cursed."

"Oh, honestly," Hermione admonished. "How can you curse a _job_?"

"I'unno," Ron said with a shrug. "Just that every year for a long time, now, each Defense professor has to leave. Some went mad, one got caught with a seventh year, I think one or two have even died."

"Talking about the curse on the Defense position?" one of the twins asked, sidling up to their youngest brother.

"Nasty stuff, that," the other said, taking the side opposite his twin.

"Heard one Professor fell off a moving staircase after breaking his wand."

"Another had a potion blow up in his face."

"Ooh, ever heard the story of the Defense professor that got caught poaching in the Forbidden Forest?"

"How about the one that was peeping in the girls' side of the prefects' bath?"

"Wasn't that the same guy?"

"Now that I think about it George, I believe it was."

"Though, this latest one doesn't seem too bad, yet," the other, probably Fred, replied with a nod. "If you don't count the stuttering problem and overwhelming aroma of garlic."

Gohan cringed. He liked garlic bread, but only once in a while, the smell always got to him and, try as he might, he just couldn't handle anything that had a lot of garlic. This proved problematic when he tried some of Krillin's cooking for the first time. Gohan loved the man, but he could only get through one helping of shrimp spaghetti with sliced garlic without visibly retching. It wasn't the abject strangeness of the dish that got to him the most, his mother was no stranger to culinary experimentation, but the garlic slices the size of a zeni were far, far too much for him to handle.

"Not a fan of garlic, eh?" Fred asked Gohan, noticing the boy wincing.

"Not...exactly, no," Gohan admitted.

"Well, you're in good company, then," George replied amicably.

"Yeah, George and I can't stand the stuff."

"That's just because you two are mental," Ron said under his breath.

"No, dear brother," Fred said, wrapping an arm around Ron's shoulders. "It's because we have functioning tongues."

"Not to mention nostrils."

"Whatever," Ron said, visibly annoyed. "That just means more garlic bread for me when mum makes it."

"Well," Fred replied as if Ron hadn't said a thing. "George and I must be off."

"What about breakfast?" Ron couldn't help but ask.

"Already had ours," George said with a slightly resentful tone to his voice. "Oliver had us up at the crack of dawn to go over Quidditch maneuvers." With that, the twins got up and almost immediately vanished amongst the other students further down the table.

"So," Gohan said a few moments later, having finished his food. "Those are your brothers, huh? They seem...interesting."

"That's putting it lightly," Ron responded with a laugh. "I think they got more disciplinary notices sent home to mum than Percy got accolades, which is impressive, given how mad Percy is about his grades."

"They sound awful," Hermione said with a grimace.

"Nah," Ron said with a casual shrug. "They're just pranksters, always working on some joke or other. It was that way even before they got to Hogwarts. If a week went by without mum going after them, then you knew they were saving up for something spectacular, usually on their birthday."

"Sounds like one of my dad's friends, Yamcha," Gohan spoke up as they got ready for class. "He's a really nice guy, but I can't even remember the number of times mom or Bulma got mad at him for some joke he pulled on them. I think it's his way of showing that he cares, though."

As they walked through the halls towards the Defense classroom, Hermione sped up and got next to Gohan and asked, in a hushed whisper, "Where exactly _are_ you from? You don't talk like you're from Britain, and your name is a lot different from the ones around here, even the name of your dad's friend is weird."

Thinking for a moment, Gohan whispered back, saying, "I'll tell you this weekend. It's not that I don't trust you, it's that I don't want anyone overhearing what I have to say. It's...personal, you understand."

Hermione gave Gohan a long look. This boy was hiding a lot of things, that much was obvious. He was always careful with what he said in public, but there were times he slipped up, when he showed who and what he really was, like the incident with Neville's Remembrall. She'd never even _heard_ of wizards who could fly under their own power, and the speed with which Gohan got to Malfoy...she literally couldn't see him as he moved, it was as if he'd simply willed himself there. Whatever power Gohan had, whatever power he'd promised to share with them, was something almost unfathomable. At first, she thought it was some kind of strange magic, she'd certainly heard of wizards who could teleport or make it look like they were moving at incredible speeds, but Gohan had never had his wand out during his entire altercation with Malfoy, yesterday. He spoke no incantations, made no motions, he just...exercised his power.

No, this had to be something different. Thinking about it, he'd admitted that he used something different to fuel his strange powers. Taking that together with the fact he only did about as well as she did with spells, sometimes a bit worse, it all led to one conclusion: whatever Gohan was, he was certainly powerful, possibly beyond what she'd previously been able to comprehend. It didn't help that he seemed to have an almost innate understanding of other people's feelings, almost as if he could read them like a book. Gohan was a fascinating, incomplete puzzle the most frustrating and, yet, most interesting kind there was. Whatever he had in store for them this weekend, Hermione had a feeling their worlds were about to change.

As Gohan entered the classroom, he was immediately assaulted by two things: an overwhelming aroma of garlic, and a dark aura that rivaled Frieza. Gohan very reluctantly sat down and pinpointed the source of the baleful presence: the young professor standing at the head of the class, stuttering about the day's lecture topic. Beneath the veil of darkness, Gohan felt a more normal man, it was as if he were...sharing...a body...

"Oh no," Gohan said to himself in a hushed whisper. All of his senses were screaming at him, now: this man is evil.

Gohan was so distracted by his near-panic that he barely paid attention in class. Professor Quirrel, as he'd called himself, had assigned them a foot of parchment on basic defensive theory. Before he knew it, the class was over and he and his friends were heading out of the classroom. All the mental pressure that had built up inside him relieved itself at once, causing Gohan to bend over and heave, nearly vomiting on the backs of Neville's shoes.

"Whoa!" Ron said, turning around at the sound. "Are you alright, mate?"

"S-Son," Professor Quirrel said, coming up from behind them. "I th-th-think you need to h-head to t-the infirmary. I'll g-g-go fetch-ch Mr. Filch to c-clean this m-m-mess up."

"Right," Gohan said weakly as Neville, Ron, and Hermione steered him away.

"What's wrong, Gohan?" Hermione asked quietly as they made their way to the Hospital Wing. "You barely paid attention in class at all, today."

"Not to mention nearly chundering on Neville's robes," Ron added.

"All you guys noticed?" Gohan asked with a sigh, continuing at their nods as they opened the doors into the infirmary. "Damn it, I guess it can't be helped. No, I'm not okay, something's really wrong."

"And what might that be, Mr. Son?" Gohan heard from a female voice nearby. "I am Madame Pomfrey, and I tend to students who happen to get themselves hurt, sick, or otherwise injured. What seems to be the trouble?"

"Gohan vomited in the middle of the hall after Defense class," Neville said quietly as Gohan shuffled his feet in embarrassment.

"I see," Madame Pomfrey said before slowly waving a wand over him. "Well, he doesn't seem to be sick, it was likely something he ate, however," she continued, seeing the strange, purple glow her wand emitted. "It seems that you might be having some issues mentally. Would you like to talk about it?"

"I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore," Gohan said shyly. "I think something might be really badly wrong with one of the professors."

"That's a very serious accusation, young man," Madame Pomfrey said warningly. "However, if its bad enough to cause a boy as healthy as you gastric distress, then I can have Professor Dumbledore come here."

"I," Gohan began, looking at his friends. "I guess that'd be okay, so long as nobody else is here..."

"Every one of these beds has a Privacy Charm around it," Madame Pomfrey stated in an official tone. "As much to keep patients from disturbing one another as keeping private matters confidential."

Gohan nodded politely and sat down on the nearest bed as Madame Pomfrey made her way to the office at the rear of the Hospital Wing. A few moments later, and Professor Dumbledore exited the office, his face impassive, but Gohan could sense he was both worried and curious. This was good, he didn't seem ready to just dismiss him out of hand.

"Mr. Gohan," Dumbledore began in a kindly voice. "I heard that you had a concern you wished to raise with me with regard to one of our professors," he continued, looking at the boy's friends. "Is this a matter you wish to discuss in front of them, or should I ask them to depart?"

"No, they can stay," Gohan said, his voice even, but firm. "What I'm going to say affects them, as well."

"Very well, then," Dumbledore said with a polite nod. "What is it you wished to discuss?"

"It's with regard to Professor Quirrel," Gohan began, taking a deep breath and readying his explanation. "I...don't remember if I told you or not, but one of the abilities I have from learning to control my ki is learning to sense the ki of others. In addition to letting me gauge how strong a person is, I can read their aura and see what they're feeling, in a general sense, and unless they're very good at masking their ki, what kind of person they are, again, in a general sense. Unless that aura is overwhelming."

"I take it, by inference, that Professor Quirrel had an overwhelming aura of some variety?" Professor Dumbledore asked, stroking his beard.

"He did," Gohan said with a slow nod. "Aside from the man himself, who felt like he was hiding something, well...I've only felt an aura _that_ patently malevolent once before, in my life. Its like there's two people in his body. I think the easiest way to put it is that the man is almost unbelievably evil."

"Quirrel, evil?" Ron asked, unbelieving. "I mean, he stutters a lot, but he didn't seem evil."

"He, or whatever it is that's living in him," Gohan temporized. "Is hiding his true nature."

"There's more to it than that," Hermione asked, her eyes boring into Gohan. "You looked queasy from the moment class started, but a short time in, you looked like you'd just been hit by a train."

"Professor Dumbledore," Gohan said, looking into the man's eyes, begging him to prove him wrong. "Is there any other person you can think of that could possess someone? Someone that's almost palpably evil?"

"My boy, you don't mean to suggest that Voldemort has possessed Professor Quirrel, do you?" Dumbledore asked, his voice belying his shock as Ron and Neville yelped. For some reason, Gohan was suspicious that the shock wasn't genuine, but he didn't let on that he thought such.

"I checked out _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ after dinner, yesterday," Gohan said, lowering his head. "They say they never found Voldemort's body, just his robes, his wand, and the curse-scar on Harry's forehead. You said yourself you don't believe he fully died, that night. Why would he want to come here, what could he gain?"

A momentary flash went through Dumbledore's eyes, almost imperceptible in its speed. "I will see if there is any way to confirm your suspicions," he said after a few moments. "Until then, I believe it would be best if we refrained from tipping our hand too soon, in case you are correct in your assessment. I will, of course, have an eye kept on him, to ensure he doesn't get up to anything nefarious."

"Thank you," Gohan said, bowing his head.

"Is there anything further?"

Gohan shook his head.

"Very well, then, I shall take my leave," Dumbledore said, straightening up. "Enjoy the rest of your day, and you can rest secure that I'll take whatever precautions are needed to stop Professor Quirrel from causing anyone any harm."

Gohan thanked Professor Dumbledore and soon, the man was off. Madame Pomfrey cleared the young half-Saiyan to go have lunch with his friends, stating that was likely the best thing for him, all things considered. As they walked through a deserted corridor, Gohan sighed.

"He knows," Gohan said quietly to his friends.

"Professor Dumbledore knows?" Hermione asked in disbelief. "Why do you think that?"

"I can feel his ki," Gohan explained. "When I suggested that Professor Quirrel might be possessed by Voldemort, his shock was feigned, I could feel it. He knows, or at least strongly suspects it."

"I really wish you'd stop using the name," Ron said quietly.

"Dumbledore himself uses it," Gohan said matter-of-factly. "Besides, I think the big question here is, if he suspects, why is Quirrel still around?"

"That's a good question," Hermione replied, her hand on her chin.

"Maybe he wants to keep an eye on him," Neville said hesitantly. "It'd be a lot easier to keep him from hurting people when he's in a building full of other adult wizards and upperclassmen."

"And, he could keep tabs on his movements," Gohan added with a nod. "I guess it does make sense. Keep your enemy close, and he can't surprise you. Doubly so if he's surrounded by your allies."

"That sounds like a brilliant move," Ron offered. "If he pulls anything, he'd have a hundred wands on him before he could get out of the castle."

"Assuming he doesn't teleport out," Gohan said, his eyes narrowed.

"Actually," Hermione said, a small hop to her step. "You can't Apparate into or out of Hogwarts, there's wards that stretch across the grounds that prevent it from happening. I read it in _Hogwarts, A History_."

"That means the only way out he'd have would be Floo or a broom," Ron said quietly. "If he has a fireplace in his office, that'd be a problem."

"I think I read in the same book," Hermione began as they rounded the corner, nearing the Great Hall. "That the Headmaster can shut down all Floo connections in the school from his office. I think that was instated around the time of the Founders in case someone tried to invade Hogwarts that way."

"Which means that, if he's found out quick enough," Neville said, looking down at the floor. "His only other means of escape would be to find a broom and fly out."

"And Gohan here has more than proven that he can catch people on brooms!" Ron added, slapping Gohan on the back.

Gohan reddened. He hadn't even really thought about it when he'd confronted Malfoy, that day, it was just instinct. He was glad to see that his friends didn't think him dangerous because of his ability. Either way, the group quieted down as they neared the queue of students filing into the Great Hall for lunch. Finding an empty stretch of bench at the Gryffindor table, they took their places. Almost immediately afterwards, Fred and George sat on either side of them, in high spirits about something.

"So, ickle firsties," Fred began, spearing some food on to his plate. "How was your first Defense Against the Dark Arts class?"

"Heard Filch grumbling something about "wretched students vomiting on the floor" while we were on our way here," George added, filling his glass with pumpkin juice. "Guess someone didn't do well with Professor Quirrel's remarkably potent aroma."

"Maybe it was one of you?" Fred remarked. "I can't see ickle Ronniekins horking, considering he loves garlic."

"And Gohan's scarier than any other wizard alive," George said, patting the younger boy on his back.

"Does _everyone_ know about that incident?" Gohan groaned quietly.

"One thing you should know about Hogwarts, mate," Fred stated with an odd smile. "Is that gossip gets around faster than a Nimbus 2000."

"I don't know what that is," Gohan admitted. "But, I'll just assume its something remarkably fast."

"You don't know what a Nimbus 2000 is?!" George said, startled. "Where have you been all your life, living in a cave?"

"It's only the fastest racing broom ever made!" Fred gushed. "Can cross a regulation Quidditch pitch in two seconds flat and it can turn on a knut!"

"But," George added, not even a fraction of a second after his twin. "From what we hear, Gohan could outrun even _that_!"

"We really need you on the pitch," Fred said, looking at Gohan appraisingly. "I dunno if Wood would let you on without a broom, but if we had you as Seeker, we could win every game the moment the whistle sounds!"

"Wouldn't that be like cheating, though?" Gohan asked, feigning interest. "I mean, if I win every game for you, I'm basically a crutch for the entire team."

"He's got a point," Fred admitted with a nod.

"Indeed he does, oh brother of mine," George added. "Wouldn't do to have us getting lazy. Not that Wood would allow it, given how savagely he's been driving us in practice."

"Is practice that bad?" Gohan asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Its murder," Fred replied, groaning. "Wood, the team captain, has us up before the sun, practicing maneuvers and formations and techniques, he's completely mad."

"It wouldn't be so bad if it were just a day or two a week," George added with a sigh. "But, he's got us practicing at least three days a week and if I didn't know better, I'd swear Wood was trying to torture us. Might as well forego the formalities and just hit us with the Cruciatus."

"Well," Fred began, getting up from the table. "That's enough chat about our beloved leader's murderous training regimen. George and I need to see a man about a potion."

As the twins left, Gohan was utterly flabbergasted. The twins weren't hard to read, but the way they seemed to almost share minds was something he'd never encountered before. Feeling their ki, there was a strange synergy between the two. If they were trained to use their ki, they would probably prove to be an exceptionally effective team. Ron looked at Gohan with an amused grin, causing the half-Saiyan to cough in embarrassment.

"Yeah," Ron began, smiling. "Fred and George are _always_ like that. It really drives mum spare when they start finishing eachother's sentences without even a breath between them. She swears that their magic must be linked or something, to be so in sync."

"Does that happen with your magic?" Gohan asked, still trying to gather himself.

"Beats me," Ron replied, shrugging. "Magic can do some crazy things, so I wouldn't be surprised if twins sometimes ended up magically linked, somehow."

"We should probably get going," Neville spoke up. "History of Magic starts soon, and I don't want to be late."

"Oh Merlin," Ron moaned as he got up. "Not History. The only person in my whole _family_ who didn't find it boring was _Percy_. Bill said even the muggleborns in his year fell asleep during Professor Binns' lectures."

"Honestly, Ronald," Hermione said testily as they walked out of the Great Hall into the castle proper. "How could learning your own history be dull? Haven't you lot ever heard that 'he who does not learn from history is doomed to repeat it?'"

"Even my gran thinks he's boring," Neville replied, forestalling an irritated response from their friend. "I don't think it has to do with _what_ he teaches, but _how_ he teaches it."

Gohan grimaced. He'd had boring tutors before, and each one was as excruciatingly painful as the last. He still remembered the time his mom got mad at him for falling asleep during one of his tutor's lessons before Frieza and his father came to Earth. She hadn't believed him when he said that the man was about as interesting as a bowl of plain oatmeal. Or at least, she hadn't until she listened in on one of his lessons, one of the few where he managed to stay awake the whole time. Chi Chi, on the other hand, had been found, fast asleep, on a chair outside his door. Needless to say, the tutor was thanked kindly for his time and relieved of his duties, much to Gohan's delight.

As they entered the lecture hall, Gohan groaned inwardly, much like Ron did aloud. They were just behind the bell, and the Professor had floated into the room and taken his place at the desk in the centre. One would think a ghost professor would be interesting. One had never before met Professor Binns.

"Please turn to the beginning of the first chapter in your books," he said in a dull monotone that made Gohan's eyelids heavy.

For the next several minutes, Professor Binns talked about some goblin rebellion, never once breaking his detached, utterly disinterested monotone. Try as he might, Gohan's mind could only take so much dullness and, soon, sleep found him much as it had Ron. Hermione scoffed at her friends, but honestly didn't fault them. Professor Binns didn't even look up as Gohan's head hit the desk with a loud thud. The man's presentation...well, it needed a _lot_ of work. While it was easy to follow, it was ultimately boring, even to the self-described bookworm. Hermione and Neville opted to let their friends sleep, they could always borrow notes or read the book, themselves when it came time to revise.

* * *

"You're eating a lot more than you used to, Harry," Chi Chi observed as she put away a second clean plate.

"I'm sorry," Harry replied, slightly startled. "It's just that the training with Mr. Yamcha makes me really hungry and-"

"Don't apologize," Chi Chi said with a smile, putting her hand up. "Honestly, I'm glad that you're eating more. You really need to, so we can undo all the damage that was done to you. Speaking of which," she continued, walking over to the young man and sitting in front of him at the table. "You're looking a lot healthier, too. How do you feel, Harry?"

"I," Harry began, searching himself. "I still wake up, sometimes, expecting to find myself still living with the Dursleys. Sometimes, I can hear my aunt or uncle yelling at me to get started making breakfast. But, honestly," he said, taking a deep breath. "I'm...I think I'm happy here.

"That's definitely a good thing," Chi Chi said kindly. "In time, you'll get used to living here, and I think you'll enjoy having some peace and quiet, as well. One good thing about living so far out is that you're never wanting for space. Though," she added, tapping a finger against her chin. "If you ever did want to visit the city, I doubt Bulma would mind us coming over on the weekend."

"I think I'd like that," Harry said, nodding as he got up slowly. "I think I'm going to walk around for a bit. Mr. Yamcha said we were going to take a break today so I don't end up pushing myself too far."

"That's more than okay," Chi Chi said, unable to hide her smile. "Just make sure you're back for dinner and don't wander too far into the forest. The woods around Mt. Paozu can be dangerous, especially for someone so young and unfamiliar with the area."

"I won't, Mrs. Chi Chi," Harry replied brightly, nodding as he exited the house.

The sun was shining; according to the clock in the dining room, it was just a little after noon and summer heat was still in the air. It was relaxing, in its own way, feeling the gentle heat beating against his skin. Looking at his arms, he noticed that they weren't as wiry as they had been a few days ago. Though they were just barely taking shape, he could see the lines of muscle beginning to take shape. Finding a particularly large rock, easily the size of his abdomen, Harry decided to try a technique Yamcha had taught him yesterday. Channeling his ki throughout his body, he reached down and, with a strained grunt, managed to wrest the boulder out of the earth. Harry held it for a second, smirking, before he placed it back down, his arms and back mutely protesting from the strain. It had hurt, but it also felt kind of good. His grin widened as he thought about his cousin, Dudley. The porcine boy had always valued his strength, using his size and power to bully and torment smaller, weaker children...like him. Now, there was little doubt in Harry's mind that, were he to come to blows with his cousin, he'd win easily.

"Enjoying your new power, huh?" a voice called out from a nearby tree. Resting against it was the tall, green man Harry had seen on his arrival in this strange world. "I'm not sure if you remember me," he continued, walking towards Harry. "The name's Piccolo. I trained Gohan when he was younger."

"I remember you," Harry said a trifle apprehensively. "You were...kind of scary." The words slipped out before Harry's brain could stop him.

"Sorry about that," Piccolo grunted. "Gohan's...important to me. I know that's no excuse, but it is what it is. You didn't answer my question, though. Are you enjoying your power?"

"I...yeah, I am," Harry responded, unsure of how to properly answer.

"Why do you enjoy it?"

"Well," Harry began sheepishly. "My cousin used to beat me up a lot, so did my aunt and uncle, but Dudley was the one who did it the most. He was always so big and strong, I never had a chance to fight back."

"And now," Piccolo interjected, narrowing his eyes and grinning slightly. "You're stronger than they are by a wide margin. You've only been at it a little while, but your control's actually pretty good," he continued, snorting. "Looks like Yamcha is good at something other than getting the tar kicked out of him," Piccolo put a hand up, forestalling Harry's likely angry retort. "No offense, but out of our merry little band of misfits, Yamcha is easily the weakest. Krillin might not have _that_ much more power on him, but at least he makes up for it with his unorthodox techniques."

"Where would you rank, then?" Harry asked, a small heat to his voice.

"With Gohan missing," Piccolo replied easily. "I'd rank second, just behind Vegeta. Assuming you can get His Royal Highness off his ass long enough to actually do something other than mope, that is," Piccolo laughed lightly. "Who knew he'd take Goku's loss so hard?"

"Goku?" Harry inquired, tilting his head. "Wasn't he the guy that talked to us when I came here? Is he a ghost or something? How was he able to do that?"

"He's in the Otherworld," Piccolo stated with a small sigh. "Put simply, it's where heroes like him go when they die. As for whether or not he's a ghost, I'm...not sure that's exactly accurate. To put it simply, the afterlife is strange: if you're exceptionally good in life, you get to keep your body and all your abilities when you travel to the next world. You also have a chance to meet one of the Kais, which in our case would be North Kai. North Kai has telepathic abilities and he's good friends with Goku, so he no doubt keeps him apprised of what's going on down here, allowing him to speak to certain people telepathically in extreme circumstances."

"How do you know all this?" Harry asked, unable to help himself.

"I've been dead before," Piccolo said, laughing. "I even met North Kai, myself."

"But...you're alive, right?" Harry continued, somewhat alarmed.

"I'm no ghost, kid," Piccolo answered. "It's a long story, but the short version is that I got killed several years ago and ended up being brought back by the Dragon Balls of my people, the Namekians. It was an...interesting experience, to say the least, but I wouldn't recommend going through with it until you're old and wrinkled, kid."

"I don't want to die!" Harry said, shocked. "But, I didn't know those Dragon Balls could bring people back to life. Could...could they bring back my parents?"

"I dunno, when did they die?"

"They died when I was only a year old," Harry replied sadly. "My aunt and uncle say they died in a car accident and that's how they'd gotten saddled with me, as they're my only living relatives."

"Unfortunately," Piccolo began, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Our Dragon Balls can't bring them back; they've got a time limit, you see. If you're gone for more than a year, or you die of old age or other natural causes, then there's nothing they can do."

"I thought so," Harry said, crestfallen. "I can't even really remember them...I get these weird dreams, sometimes, about green flashes of light, a woman yelling, and a tall man without a nose, but it's never anything more than that. It _feels_ like they're related to my parents, but I was never able to find out for sure. The one time I tried to ask my aunt about it, she just told me to shut up and keep cleaning."

"Jeez," Piccolo said, raising an eyebrow. "The more I hear about your aunt and uncle, the more I understand _why_ you never want to see them again. Still, now that I get a good look at you, I sense something...weird."

As he finished the last word, Piccolo knelt to the ground, looking Harry face-to-face. Peering up at his scar, he furrowed his brow. Something felt off about it, running a thumb across it, Piccolo felt a lingering trace of some kind of power, some kind of magic. As he lifted up his finger, a small jolt, almost like a static shock, struck Piccolo's thumb. Piccolo's head shot up and his eyes went wide as he saw a vision of a green flash of light and a high, cold laugh...a man in a black robe. Just as quickly as it'd come, the vision was gone, and Piccolo was left reeling.

"What happened?" Harry asked, frightened at what he'd seen.

"Your scar," Piccolo replied, shaking his head clear. "There's some kind of magic on it. I saw something, it sounded like one of your dreams. Have you ever heard someone laugh in your weird dreams?"

"Once or twice, yeah," Harry responded, nodding. "What's this mean?"

"I wish I had an answer for ya, kid," Piccolo responded slowly. "All I know is that there might be a connection to the magic on your scar and your strange dreams. Looking deeper, there seems to be magic in you, as well. You almost seem to be radiating it, to a small degree."

"I thought this ki stuff was magic..."

"Ki and magic are two completely different things," Piccolo said bluntly. "Ki is powerful, but limited in what it can do. It can make you stronger and faster, but ki doesn't make Dragon Balls. Ki can't perform divination or heal wounds. That is the realm of magic."

"And you say I can do magic? How?"

"Well, it's not something Yamcha could ever teach you to use," Piccolo said with a hint of smugness. "While I won't pretend to know everything about your magic, I could at least help you find a way to call on it. Once you have that down, it's just a matter of control and getting it to do what you want."

"How do I begin to call on it?" Harry couldn't help but ask. Learning he had this "ki" stuff was one thing, but that he had magic, too? The prospects were running through his mind like wildfire and he steadily became more excited. As his elation peaked, the air began to shimmer and, just as he noticed it, the shimmering disappeared.

"I think we just found a key part of the puzzle," Piccolo observed curiously. "Your magic responds to your emotions very easily, but your control needs a _lot_ of work if you want to actually affect some measure of reliability."

"Please," Harry begged. "Teach me! I want to know how to use my magic properly!"

"Enthusiasm is a good start," Piccolo replied kindly. "I'll teach you. You can continue your normal training with Yamcha, but I'll stop by, sometimes, to help you get in touch with your magic. But," Piccolo added, standing up and straightening his back. "Don't expect me to take it easy on you because you're a kid. My training will be tough, think you can handle it?"

"I'll do whatever it takes," Harry responded, a fire in his eyes.

"Good," Piccolo said, smiling slowly. "I'll come back tomorrow after I've prepared our first lesson. Expect me sometime after lunch."

"Will do, Mr. Piccolo!" Harry said, extremely pleased.

"Maybe you two aren't so different, after all," Piccolo remarked with a mixture of slight sadness and fondness as he flew off.

Harry stared after Piccolo as he left. What did he mean by that? Was he comparing him to Gohan, just then? Wondering what lay in store for him, and excited at the prospect of learning even more new things about himself, Harry stalked off towards the house he'd come to know as home in his brief time in this world.

"Oh, Trunks!" Bulma cried out, running up to her son from the future and hugging him tight. "It's so good to see you again!"

"Likewise, mother," Trunks said, blushing before looking around the otherwise empty front lawn of Capsule Corp. "Where's dad?"

"He hasn't been the same since Goku died," Bulma replied sadly before shaking her head, wiping away her sadness and focusing on the task at hand. "But, I didn't call you here to talk about your father. I need your help with something else, son."

Trunks listened as his mother recounted that past few days to him. Gohan's sudden disappearance, apparently trading places with a young man from another world. Shenron not being able to help was strange…a creature that could bring the dead to life not being able to do anything more than act as a mere messenger meant either the task at hand was far more demanding than one would think, or that there were powerful forces at play behind the scenes.

"I see," Trunk said after a few moments. "And you say you need the help of your counterpart from my time to try and bring Gohan back, is that right?"

"That's the long and short of it, yeah," Bulma said, her face turning apologetic. "I'm sorry, son. I really wish this were just a social call, but I really _do_ need your help. You and your Bulma are the only ones I can think of that'd even have a chance of understanding how to get to an entirely different universe."

"Say no more, mother," Trunks stated, putting a hand up. "I gave you that signal so you could call me in case something terrible happened, and I'd say this definitely counts. Besides," he continued, laughing as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "My timeline's version of you has been wanting to come back here for a while, now. I can't think of a better reason, or a better time. I'll be back shortly."

"Godspeed, son," Bulma said, hugging Trunks once more.

True to his word, Trunks was only gone for a few minutes, though, by the looks of things, at least a few days had passed, in his time. The present timeline's Bulma grinned on seeing her son again, not just happy to see him, but also happy to see that he actually was growing up: he had, apparently, forgotten to shave before he returned, his face shadowed by a small amount of stubble.

"So," Future Bulma said, looking at her past counterpart. "That's what my face used to look like…I'd almost forgotten."

Present Bulma couldn't do anything more than laugh. "Meeting yourself for the first time," she said, taking a few breaths. "And the first thing you talk about is my face?"

"Well, what would you have done?" Future Bulma replied petulantly. "I mean, it's been years since I looked like you! Besides, how many times do you actually get to talk to yourself and _not_ be considered crazy?"

"A fair point," Present Bulma responded, steadying herself as her laughter, but not her smile, faded. "What do you say we go inside and get everything set up?"

"Sounds good!" Future Bulma said. "Lead the way!"

"Mothers…" Trunks said quietly to himself. One of his mother was enough of a handful, but now he had two to deal with. He lagged behind them a bit as he imagined his father walking in on his mothers working side-by-side, and he struggled against his laughter. For a moment, Trunks entertained the idea of going forward in this timeline by a few years to see this version of himself as a young kid. He remembered how lonely it was growing up an only child…of course, that was due in no small part to the rampage the cyborgs had gone on before he'd even been old enough to speak. At least this version of himself wouldn't grow up in a world almost literally half empty.

For his part, that at least had a chance to change. Though it hadn't been too long since both Cells had been defeated and his world had been freed from their grip, Trunks hadn't rested on his laurels. When news spread of the cyborgs' demise, people were cautious, but joyous. Slowly, rebuilding was taking place, and Trunks was working alongside the remnants of humanity in his city to truly coordinate relief and reconstruction efforts. It would be a long time before things got anywhere near normal, but at least Capsule Corp still stood, and once supplies started flowing in, his mother vowed to build a fleet of robots to reconstruct what had been destroyed. Trunks had even entertained the idea of training new defenders of Earth, teaching them about their ki and how to use it. He like the idea of spreading the largess Gohan had given him, and he also knew that, one day, Earth would need people capable of defending it from creatures like the cyborgs and Cell. Knowing his mothers were working on a solution for the problem at hand, Trunks decided to take a walk around town. It'd been a long time since he'd had an opportunity to unwind, and who knew when the next chance would avail itself.

"I noticed Trunks was looking a bit more…rugged, when he came back," Present Bulma began as her future counterpart laid out various and sundry technical documents.

"You noticed, huh?" Future Bulma replied, laughing. "He says he just forgot to shave for a bit, but between you and me," she continued, leaning in and lowering her voice to a whisper. "I think there might've been a girl involved. I caught him looking at himself in the mirror, rubbing his face, and smiling."

"It looks good on him," Present Bulma stated, smiling. "I bet whatever lady inspired it must really be pleased with herself, now."

"I know I would be," Future Bulma confirmed. "Plus, it comes in handy when he goes to work with the people that are rebuilding the city. Gives him an air of authority, ya know?"

"He's a fine young man," Present Bulma said. "Whatever girl ends up in his arms will be the luckiest one on the whole planet."

"Got that right!" Future Bulma responded triumphantly. "Now, then, I've got plans written up here for a device that will help us detect dimensional breaches that I built off of my work on the time machine. Theoretically," she continued, unrolling a sheaf of blue paper with semi-arcane plans on them. "It should be able to pick up a signature of some kind from Gohan's room from whatever's left of the breach that caused him and that boy to swap worlds."

"And, you think that," Present Bulma began, running a hand along the document. "If we can compare that signature to the one generated by the time machine, we could potentially find out Gohan's coordinates."

"We're gonna make a great team," Future Bulma said, laughing.

Just then, the door to the lab opened and in it stood Dr. Briefs. For a moment, he stood there, staring at the two instances of his daughter looking back at him before rubbing his eyes and pinching himself to ensure that he was, in fact, quite awake.

"Well, I'll be!" Dr. Briefs said, amazed. "You must be my daughter's counterpart from the future!"

"D…dad?" Future Bulma stammered out, tearing up. "It's…it's been so long."

"There there, my dear," Dr. Briefs said, walking over to his daughter's future counterpart, wiping the tears off her face. "It's alright, you needn't cry."

"Daddy!" Future Bulma cried out, hugging her father. "I missed you so much! I can't believe I'm seeing you again, it's been…it's been years…"

A few sombre minutes passed as Future Bulma held on to her father for dear life. She hadn't seen the man in so many years, not since shortly after Trunks' eighth birthday, when he was taken from her by an experiment gone wrong. A weapon that had been intended to destroy the cyborgs had short-circuited, flooding his body with electricity, killing him on the spot. Ever since that day, his lab had remained locked and sealed, she couldn't bring herself to enter that room.

Wiping away the remainder of her tears, Future Bulma broke her vise grip on her father and gave the man some space. Of all the people she could've met in this timeline, she ended up meeting the one person she'd missed the most. As she righted her mind, or at least as much as she could manage, given the circumstances, Future Bulma realized that maybe it had been for the best: to rip off the bandage quickly and have it done with sooner rather than later. Besides, it wasn't like she didn't enjoy the man's company, and she also didn't want to sour the time she had with him, now.

"Well, my twin dears," Dr. Briefs began, blushing slightly, but looking quite happy. "What problem are we tackling, today?"

"We need," Present Bulma said, looking over the diagram before her. "A high-frequency phase discriminator, one far more sensitive than ones we've built, here. I think that should be our first step, since everything else outside the power source, which we have covered, depends on it."

"What about the one you built for your Dragon Radar?" Dr. Briefs asked, looking over his daughter's shoulder. "If memory serves, you had to build that one from scratch, did you not? You could use the plans for that to build a better one."

"Trust dad to be in lockstep with us from the moment he walked through the door," Future Bulma said fondly. "That was exactly what I was about to propose. I'd have brought one from my time, but with all the other plans I had to bring in the time machine, there just wasn't enough space."

"We should have the materials here," Present Bulma added, smiling. "I think, if we could shrink down the harmonic processor enough, we could fit at least four of them together and run them in parallel."

"That should give us the requisite resolution," Future Bulma said, pulling out a new sheet of drafting paper and a pencil, creating the schematics of the new component. "But, does your facility have the tooling for such a thing? I don't really know how far apart we diverged after Trunks came back here, the first time."

"I think we might have some proper tools laying around here _somewhere_ ," Dr. Briefs began, rummaging through the files on a nearby computer. "We've never really needed something this fine-tuned, before, but I've improved our fabrication facilities over the years, just in case something ever came up and we'd need them."

"Well, then!" Present Bulma said dramatically. "What are we doing, wasting time here? Let's get to work!"

"So, you've returned," Trunks heard Vegeta say from the doorway as he got a drink from the fridge. "Hunting down rogue cyborgs?"

"Haven't you heard?" Trunks replied in disbelief. "Gohan disappeared a while ago with almost no trace. He got swapped with a boy from another universe called Harry. I brought _my_ mom here so she could work with this timeline's Bulma and figure out what happened and where Gohan went."

"Kakarot's son disappeared?" Vegeta asked, raising an eyebrow. "That's right, I remember Bulma saying something about that," Vegeta sighed. "Not that it matters..."

"Father," Trunks began, trying to not sound exasperated. "I know you were affected a lot by Goku's death-"

"Stop, right there," Vegeta responded hotly. "Don't presume to lecture me, boy."

"I'm not trying to lecture you, father," Trunks said, taken aback. "I was just trying to help."

"Kakarot is gone!" Vegeta yelled defiantly. "And all that was left was his son, a child! How am I supposed to beat a man that's dead?! How can I compete with the afterlife's greatest warriors?!"

"Father..." Trunks began, reaching out to Vegeta.

"I need time, son," Vegeta said quietly, turning away. "Please don't follow me."

"If you need me," Trunks said quietly.

"I know," Vegeta replied, disheartened. "And, Trunks?"

"Yes, father?"

"I like the new look," Vegeta stated, trying to smile as best as he could before walking off.

Trunks turned red. Not strictly from his father's words, though it was nice to hear his father compliment him on something other than his strength, but Trunks was thinking of the young woman he'd been working with when he'd decided to grow his facial hair out. Rain. Apparently, she'd come from some place in the north called Jingle Village, one of the few survivors of the cyborg attack that decimated the small town. A tall, slender woman with long, straight, red hair and brown eyes; she had, in her own words, taken a lot after her mother. Trunks couldn't help but be smitten with her. She was honest and hard-working, and she'd even picked up some basic martial arts, being inspired by her mother's tales of a young boy who'd once saved their village when her mother was just a girl.

Of course, they weren't a couple or anything. He just...liked her. It didn't hurt that she seemed to enjoy spending time with him, either. She'd once said that he'd look good with some facial hair, and he couldn't just ignore her suggestion. He wasn't trying to attract her or anything, he just happened to agree. Not that it'd stop his mother from teasing him about it every chance she got...

* * *

Gohan awoke blearily, that Thursday. He had, somehow, managed to remember a fair portion of what they'd had to learn for History, yesterday, though not in any part due to Professor Binns' lectures. Hermione had lightly chided both him and Ron for falling asleep on their first day of class, but Gohan could tell she at least understood from where they were coming, as she'd allowed them to look over her notes...though, that was at the insistence that they not copy them, likely hoping to encourage fewer forays into the dream realm during lectures.

Either way, today was, according to his schedule, Charms and Herbology. His essay on the properties of dittany was about as polished as it was going to get, and he'd actually managed to learn quite a bit about the plant. It could be used in a mixture with silver to cure werewolf bites, and it could also be used to cure snake bites; shredded, it was also an ingredient in a potion that would awaken one from a magically-induced sleep. The more he learned about it, the more he was fascinated by the plant. It might not have the same restorative properties of Senzu beans, or at least to the same degree, but Gohan wondered if its abilities couldn't be amplified in some way...

His ruminations lasted him until he was at the doorway to Charms, his mind automatically following his friends whom he knew were also taking the class. Inside the room sat not an orderly collection of desks as one found in Transfiguration, or large lab tables as he'd seen in Potions; in this class, there was a single, long, semi-circular desk going around the outer edges of the room with chairs spaced evenly throughout. In the middle was a small mound of books piled high; at their apex stood a man that would've given Krillin a run for his money in terms of stature, with short-cropped, brown hair and a thick, bushy mustache.

"Good morning!" the Professor began in a strangely high voice once the students were seated. "My name is Professor Filius Flitwick, and I am here to begin your education in the fine art that is Charms, _some of you_ ," he added, a touch of acid to his voice. "May have been warned that this is a soft class, an easy Outstanding, might be prepared to slack off a little, but I warn you now: you may pass this class, but if you don't pay attention, you'll have only yourself to blame if you end up barely able to cast a simple Alarm charm and flunk your OWLs in your fifth year."

Professor Flitwick quickly gazed around at the somewhat sobered class and, nodding, continued, "Let it not be said that I'm cruel or unreasonable, though! While Charms is the basis of all wandwork, there's no reason it can't be enjoyable! In that vein, today, we'll be learning the Levitation charm. Now," he added, whipping out his wand with practiced alacrity. "Watch me closely, _swish_ and _flick_! Swish," he swished his wand up, before bringing it down at the apex, pointing it at a lone book at the edge of the pile. "and flick. Wands at the ready, and follow after me!"

The class performed several repetitions of the wand movement before they'd been given the incantation, " _wingardium leviosa_ ," and told to levitate a feather the Professor had conjured in front of each of them. Gohan, in a rare fit of dry wit, had almost considered just using his ki to levitate the feather, but that would've defeated the whole purpose of the lesson. Looking at the feather and concentrating, he performed the "swish and flick" that had been drilled into him.

" _Wingardium leviosa_ ," Gohan muttered, pointing his blackthorn wand at the feather. What happened next had the Son of Goku somewhat alarmed and more than a little red. He had, apparently, shunted a _little_ too much power into the spell, and the feather's end had now, against all reason, managed to lodge itself firmly into the ceiling. The other students, upon witnessing the logic-defying feat, burst into a fit of laughter and, much to his shame, even Professor Flitwick was chuckling as he walked over to him.

"My word," Professor Flitwick began heartily, smiling at Gohan. "In all my years, I don't think I've seen a student who managed to lodge a feather into solid stone before! Five points to Gryffindor for your incredible feat," he added with another laugh. "Though, I think you might want to try dialing down your enthusiasm just a _bit_ on your next go around."

With that, Professor Flitwick conjured another feather and went back to his post at the centre of the classroom to observe the other students. His face still burning, Gohan made another attempt, this time managing to keep the feather from performing such an...incredible stunt twice in a row. Ron looked less than enthused, limply attempting to cast the spell at the feather.

"Its _wingardium levio_ _ **sa**_ , not _levio_ _ **sar**_ _,"_ Hermione pointed out as she neatly landed her feather almost exactly where it'd been when the exercise had started.

"I know that!" Ron snapped angrily.

Gohan didn't need to sense ki to tell that Ron was both ashamed and embarrassed. Both of his friends had managed to get the spell down easily enough, but he was still having trouble. It seemed fairly simple to Gohan, but everyone in the class seemed to have different levels of ability and control, and a cursory look told him that Ron wasn't the only one having difficulty getting off the ground, as it were. Ron, even though he'd managed to at least get his feather to flip over a time or two, was still surly as they exited the class.

"Its _levio_ _ **sa**_ , not _levio_ _ **sar**_ ," Ron said mockingly in a low voice to Gohan before snorting. "Its no wonder she hasn't got any friends."

Just behind them, Gohan heard Hermione sniff and, before he could even say anything, she'd run off, obviously distraught. Gohan looked at Ron, who still looked angry, and his eyes narrowed.

"That wasn't very nice," Gohan told Ron calmly.

"What?" Ron asked, shocked and defensive.

"She was just trying to help you out back there," Gohan replied, shaking his head. "Hermione wasn't trying to make you look like an idiot."

"Why's she got to be such a bloody know-it-all, though?" Ron demanded. "Always having to do things exactly right the first time and correcting everyone when they do something even slightly wrong!"

"That's a gross exaggeration and you know it," Gohan said, his voice getting a little hot. "As far as I'm aware, that's the only time she's corrected _anyone_ , and we've had all the same classes, so far," Gohan sighed. "Look, I get that she could've said what she said better, but that wasn't trying to insult you."

Ron's eyes widened before he blushed to his ears in shame. "I was out of line," he said slowly and quietly. "Next time I see Hermione, I'll tell her I'm sorry."

* * *

"Again!" Piccolo barked out.

Harry had been straining for hours, trying to call to whatever magic was within him. He'd tried different feelings, but nothing really seemed to be calling out to him...it was almost as if he were missing a crucial component, somewhere. Piccolo appeared to pick up on Harry's train of thought, putting his hand up to signal a pause in their training.

"Something's on your mind," he said simply.

"I just feel like...like I'm missing something," Harry began somewhat apprehensively. "Like the magic you sensed in me isn't responding because there's a piece missing, somewhere."

"You might be right," Piccolo replied after a moment's thought. "Magic does sometimes need a focus. Unfortunately, whatever power I may have gotten from Kami, I didn't get much in the way of knowledge...at least, not any that I didn't already have," Piccolo turned his head to the sky. "I think we might need to make a visit to Dende up at the Lookout. He'd probably be more helpful than me."

Without a word between them, Piccolo took Harry and soon they were off, flying high above the clouds, far away from the home he'd come to know with Chi Chi. Several minutes passed, flying at an almost blistering speed, before they'd arrived at their destination. The Lookout almost looked like it was floating above the sky, a gleaming, white, marble half-sphere sitting above the rest of the world, as if to quietly watch it pass by underneath.

"Hey, Piccolo!" A short Namekian, as Harry had learned Piccolo's people were called, called out as they landed, walking towards them. "Its been a while!"

"Its good to see you again, Dende," Piccolo responded warmly.

"I take it this is the boy that caused all that commotion a while back?"

"My name's Harry, sir," Harry said quickly. "Harry Potter," Harry looked at Dende's dumbfounded expression and was immediately alarmed. "Is something wrong?"

"I think that's the first time anyone's called me 'sir,'" Dende said before laughing. "Please, no need to be so formal, you're among friends here; I'm Dende. Pleased to meet you, Harry."

With introductions out of the way, Piccolo explained the reason for their little visit to Dende's abode. Earth's Guardian nodded slowly as Piccolo told them about how they'd been unsuccessful in calling out Harry's magical abilities, and looked thoughtful when Piccolo presented the theory that, maybe, Harry needed a focus to properly call on his powers.

"Its certainly not unheard of," Dende confirmed with a nod. "Some members of Dragon Clan use foci to channel their magic when they're young, or when they're trying to use some of the more powerful magic, like making Dragon Balls. Let's see," he continued, walking over to and looking Harry in the eye. "I don't think you're far off. His magic is unfocused and wild, something through which he can channel and control it would make working with it much easier."

"What would I need?" Harry asked, heart filled with trepidation. "Like a wand or something?"

"Sure," Dende replied, stepping back a bit. "Though, almost any object would be effective, the thing that really matters is that its attuned to _your_ specific magic. Just like how every person has their own, specific flavour of ki, if you will, everyone magically-endowed is unique."

"What would you suggest?"

"Something portable," Dende replied easily. "Usually, Dragon Clan children are given a ring of precious stones to use as a focus until they get used to using their magic and are slowly weaned off it. That would probably work best for you, though it really is up to you."

"Maybe," Harry began, working the ideas over in his mind before one hit him. "A bracelet? I'd be scared of losing or dropping a ring, and a wand would make me look like a street performer. But," he added, suddenly confused. "Where would I get something like that in the first place?"

"From me, of course!" Dende replied cheerfully. "I can make you one, right now, if you want. Consider it your official "Welcome to Earth" gift! After all, I _am_ the Guardian of Earth."

"Guardian?" Harry asked, eyes wide with awe. "You mean you protect the entire planet?"

"I still have a lot to learn," Dende admitted. "But, I mostly watch over the planet and am _supposed_ to intervene in the case of a world-ending treat. Alas, it seems _that_ particular duty has been usurped by a certain group of warriors," he added, giving Piccolo a warm grin. "Anyway, let's see about getting you that focus..."

A few minutes later, Harry was the proud owner of a silver bracelet with an intricate inlay of a golden, serpentine dragon with ruby eyes across its entire length. Harry could almost _feel_ the magic inside of him quiver, as if an old friend had come home. Indeed, things were about to take a very interesting turn for the last of the Potters.

 **Author's Notes**

Ugh, this did _not_ want to get written. Unlike the others, I don't _exactly_ have the excuse of university to fall back on, either. In my defense, some scenes really stumped me and flowed like frozen molasses. I've had kind of a hard time writing, in general, lately, what with school (both community college and university) eating up my time, energy, and motivation, the holiday season being an ass and a half, and generally being tired all the time. Still, I hope it was worth it, for you guys. I will do my _damndest_ to get the next one out in less than a god damned _year,_ I promise.

 **Vangran** : Thankee! Yeah, I thought about Shenron as a possible out for the entire scenario, but Shenron's known to have certain hard limits. After all, he couldn't outright kill Vegeta and/or Nappa, and he _was_ killed by King Piccolo. Shenron is damn near broken in every sense of the term, but he's definitely got _some_ limits as to what he can do, and simply plucking someone from an alternate universe entirely (as opposed to the afterlife or another part of space) just seemed like something he couldn't handle.

 **Juxshoa** : I'm not sure, I have a few ideas, but nothing concrete, yet. Bojack _will_ show up, but as to how he'll end up getting the hell kicked out of him? I dunno, yet, but I'm sure I'll find something that isn't _totally_ half-assed.

 **Great Saiyaman54** : Eeh, I more meant too young _for me_ to be writing about them being all romantic; at least, for the time being. I try to keep things _just_ on the side of good taste.

 **Gremlinite** : Thankee! I'm not sure how Gohan and Snape will work out. Gohan _does_ have the advantage of basically just _not being Harry_ , but a disadvantage of being a Gryffindor _and_ a child. I don't think Snape would be really warm to him, but I doubt he'd be as explicitly hostile towards him as he was towards Harry. Also, aye, I try to portray Chi Chi as something other than a frying pan-wielding harridan. I mean, for all the utter horror Gohan has witnessed, he still managed to grow up into a fairly stable adult and we sure as _hell_ know _Goku_ ain't fuckin responsible for that shit. The man's a decent guy and a great fighter, but he _really_ was _not_ father of the year material.

 **Allison** : I will try to make updates more often. I...have a difficult time, occasionally. Emotional issues and school/university fatigue tend to get to me a bit more than it really should, unfortunately.

Well, that's all for now! Check back (hopefully, god damned soon) for Chapter Four of _Interrupta Vitae,_ Developments and Demonstrations! Take care!


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